


Fire In Your New Shoes

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Inception (2010), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Averting the apocalypse, Canon Rewrite, F/M, Inception Big Bang Challenge, triad longings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 22:11:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Campbell never approved of his Winchester cousins using demonic help to take down other demons. When other hunters are killed while helping them stop Lucifer, he calls on supernatural aid of his own to help them.</p><p> </p><p>Inception AU fusion with Supernatural. This is also an AU of Supernatural, diverging from canon in season five and begins in November 2009.<br/>For the prompt <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink/13659.html?thread=30314587#t30314587">Arthur Campbell was born and raised as a hunter, since hunting is the ‘family business’. He ran for his life for years, since all relatives of Mary Campbell were persecuted and killed, so he doesn't know much about Sam and Dean except they are family.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Red On The Inside

**Author's Note:**

> The scene with Famine contains dialogue lifted directly from [the episode,](http://www.supernaturalwiki.com/index.php?title=5.14_My_Bloody_Valentine_\(Transcript\)) as was part of the [scene with Death.](http://www.supernaturalwiki.com/index.php?title=5.21_Two_Minutes_To_Midnight_\(Transcript\))
> 
> Big Bang art [located here.](http://anlinn.livejournal.com/872.html)

"Fucking hell."

Ariadne looked over at Arthur as she was packing their things into the duffel bags, sorting out the dirty things to take to a Laundromat later. He was looking at his laptop, his usual pale face completely white. "What is it?"

"Ellen and Jo are dead."

Ariadne dropped the shirt she had been folding and came to sit beside him. "But..." She glanced at the e-mail message. "No," she said in shock, clutching his arm in shock. "Did one of those demons get to them?"

"My cousins are fucking idiots," Arthur said, his hand closing over Ariadne's. "The fuckers are so goddamn stupid, they're going to get everyone killed." He gestured vaguely at his laptop screen, agitated. "Sam's the one that used demon blood and thought working with a fucking demon was a good idea. Are they just dicking around while we're doing everything we can to stop the apocalypse?"

Ariadne ran her hands through Arthur's hair gently as she sighed, then leaned forward to press a kiss to the top of his head. "He doesn't know you're out there. He doesn't know you're family, Arthur." She pressed another kiss. "I think you should tell them. They need to know they're not the only ones working to keep the seals intact."

"It's a bad idea. The Winchesters are bad news," Arthur murmured, pulling her to stand between his spread legs. He wrapped his long arms around her waist and held her close, his head against her chest. "Bobby said that Ruby was manipulating Sam..." He closed his eyes, listening to her heart beat. "After this, they won't have too many allies left. All it seems to take is a demon claiming to want Lucifer dead and they'll fall for it."

"But you won't contact them to help." Ariadne let her hands fall to his shoulders, squeezing them slightly. "We need to call him. He needs to know you're still out there. For all we know, our help might stop him from being so colossally stupid..."

"No," Arthur said sharply. "Bad enough Sam started the apocalypse. Dean isn't doing shit to rein him in. I won't let them get you killed, Ariadne. I can't..."

"Arthur," began, pulling back and shaking her head. Her caramel colored eyes bored into Arthur's dark brown ones. "If we're going to defeat Lucifer and prevent the apocalypse, then you _know_ the Winchesters will need all the help they can get."

Arthur scrubbed at his face tiredly and looked at Ariadne. "We're fighting demons and helping to prevent seals from getting broken. That's plenty of help right there." His expression was plaintive. "I've lost everyone else to this already. You're my wife... I can't lose you, too."

"You'll be able to protect us both," Ariadne told him, leaning forward to touch her forehead to his. "If you need to do more protections, we _do_ know a supernatural creature that could help us. Maybe teach us more magic or just warp reality a bit so we won't die when we take on the next seal. You might have to call..."

"Hell, no. The last time..."

"He still saved our lives. He might not try to wind you up so much this time..."

"Fucking shapeshifting trickster. It's all they _do."_

"This is to prevent Lucifer from rising, Arthur. We'll need all the help we can get, right? There aren't many hunters left. And as much as what they're doing isn't safe and pisses you off, the Winchesters are still family." She paused. "Would it be easier if I called him?"

"No," Arthur said, blowing out a breath. "I'll call him myself."

***

Ariadne sat back as Arthur spread the salt in a protective circle and began inscribing the old runes into the ground just inside the salt circle. He had four wax candles for the four points of the compass, as well as small bowls containing representations of each element at the appropriate point. He sat in the center of the circle, dressed in only his jeans and boots. Without his shirt, he looked almost too thin and bony to Ariadne's eyes, but she knew his wiry frame belied his strength. The thick burn scar on his chest stood out in sharp relief against his pale skin. Arthur took in a deep breath, then began to chant softly in Apsaalooke. That was what the Crow people called themselves, and Arthur had learned a lot from them on their reservation in Montana. Unfortunately, it had also meant he came to the attention of various things he didn't always want to interact with. He had left the reservation when it wasn't safe anymore, and had cobbled together a series of protections that seemed to work for him.

Ariadne saw the candle flames waver slightly, and a chill came through the open field even though it was the height of summer. "You know, my dear," came a voice with an English accent beside her. "I really do resent being summoned like a common _ghost."_

She turned her head in surprise, making a small squeak. It broke Arthur's concentration, and his eyes snapped open. He saw Ariadne sitting on the ground, startled but not truly afraid. Sitting beside her was a man about his height but with a broader and more muscular build. He had dirty blond hair, sharp blue eyes and a sensual grin on his face. He turned to look at Arthur; despite the fact that this face was different from others he had seen before, he knew exactly who this was by the amused glint in his eyes.

Arthur shot to his feet and the candle flames went out immediately. He crossed over the lines of runes and salt to stride to Ariadne in five angry steps. "I was trying to watch my back for a change, Coyote," he snarled. "The last time..."

"Eames."

"Excuse me?" he asked, brows knit in confusion. He felt unsettled and out of the loop, which was fairly common around the trickster figure. He _hated_ this about Coyote.

"In this particular incarnation, I'm going by the name Eames. Rather classy, don't you think?" He grinned up at Arthur unrepentantly. "I thought it would be a nice change, hm?" He threw an arm around Ariadne's shoulders just to make Arthur angry. "I'm so glad it worked out with you two kids. You're great together. Complimentary. My _pièce de resistance_ for that particular incarnation, if you will."

"Eames," Ariadne said, trying out the name. It was in a warning tone, as she could see Arthur's clenched jaw tick in anger. "Please stop."

It was her quiet voice that did it, and Eames nodded. "All right, then, since you asked so nicely." He removed his arm and looked up at Arthur. With a wave of his hand, a brisk wind scattered the salt and dirt, blurring the edges of the circle. The wind also retrieved the candles and bowls. "You don't look particularly pleased to see me, Arthur. So this must be a very big deal indeed if you're trying to summon me." He handed over the materials and watched Arthur accept them with barely contained annoyance.

"I need your help," he said tightly, looking Eames in the eye. "No tricks, no changes, nothing like that. Just... I need help to save my family."

Eames' eyebrow raised and he looked at Ariadne contemplatively. "I didn't think you were in the family way yet, darling. Congratulations."

Arthur made a choked noise as Ariadne shook her head. They had talked about having children, of course. He wanted them so badly his heart ached, but it wasn't safe. He couldn't keep his cousins safe, he couldn't keep Ariadne safe. The burned mark on his chest only reminded him of how many lives he simply couldn't save, and he couldn't have children simply to watch them die because of demons. "Ellen and Jo Harvelle are dead. That leaves very few hunters on the ground that know about the seals and Lucifer."

"I'm sorry," Eames replied gently. "I wouldn't have teased if I knew. Really, I wouldn't have."

Looking away, Arthur put his shirt back on and sat down in front of Ariadne. "I know trying to close up seals won't lock Lucifer away, but it's got to help prevent more demons from coming up to help him. We have to stop him from starting the Apocalypse. He's going to go after Sam, and Dean isn't doing much to stop it, it looks like." Arthur looked at Eames with a hollow expression. "They can't be trusted, but they're still family. They still need our help."

"Not to belabor your pain, Arthur," Eames said in that same gentle voice Arthur wasn't used to, "but did you actually see the bodies?" 

Arthur looked at him sharply, annoyance in his tone. "Bobby wouldn't lie to me about that."

"Hear me out before you dismiss it, yes? You know as well as I what's at stake. How do you know this isn't a ruse of some kind? Draw you out so that it'll be even easier to strike down the hunters that are left?"

Arthur hadn't considered that possibility, and he knew Ariadne certainly didn't think along those lines. It must have shown on his face, because Eames leaned forward and patted his leg in a fond gesture. "Well, that answers that. So the first thing to do would be to confirm the death. Anyone can be fooled." Eames' gaze sharpened as he took in Arthur's distress. "You of all people know that people are corruptible." He watched Arthur rub at the scar on his chest and look at Ariadne, pain clearly etched on his features. "Not her, Arthur. She's one of the few I would firmly mark in the incorruptible category."

They both turned to look at Eames in surprise, and he simply smiled. "What? She saw through me in an instant. How many can do that? Did _you?"_ he asked pointedly.

"I knew what you were."

"Yes. Called me by name, even, which is shocking in these times. A white man calling me Coyote?" Eames laughed. "Took me for a turn, that did. But Ariadne..." He reached over and tugged on a lock of her hair playfully. "She will always be the one to lead you out of the maze, Arthur. Take better care of this gift than Theseus did, hm?"

Arthur bristled at that. "You f-"

"Stop it, both of you," Ariadne said in a firm tone, not raising her voice. "Baiting each other won't change things."

"No, I suppose not," Eames admitted. He flashed Arthur a charming grin that the other man scowled at. "Oh, don't be like that. You amuse me, Arthur. Why else would I come around when you call me like a common ghost? By rights, I should be furious with you."

"Stop," Ariadne repeated, and this time Eames did settle down. He merely grinned at her and Arthur, looking pleased with himself.

"I need to protect my family," Arthur told Eames quietly. "I need to keep them safe." He rubbed at the scar on his chest, not even realizing he was doing it. Ariadne reached out and clasped his hand tightly, pulling it away from his chest. He looked at her with a vulnerable expression, pain etched into his features. "I need to know they'll be all right."

Eames leaned over and slid his hand along Arthur's shoulders in a too-familiar gesture that sent his heart stuttering in his chest. Eames kissed Arthur's temple under Ariadne's watchful eye, his own expression serious. "Of course, Arthur," he said in a voice as gentle as a father's to a scared child. "All you had to do was ask."

***

"Here we are," Eames announced cheerfully. He had driven a massive SUV through the Great Plains region, and Ariadne was thoroughly lost. She was usually pretty good at directions, but she was fairly certain that Eames had done something to the route to change it. Or perhaps they hadn't driven along actual roads built by man; she could never really tell what Eames' intentions were half of the time. She did know that for all he liked to needle Arthur, he did genuinely care for his welfare. After a fashion, she supposed that Eames cared about her as well.

Arthur had never described in any kind of detail the fire that claimed the lives of his family and left him with the nasty scar on his chest. He was on the run from a demon that had been its root cause, but she didn't ask how. Arthur had stumbled across a vengeful ghost that had killed her family and managed to destroy it before it killed her. Nowhere else to go, she had tagged along and learned his family business.

She had thought that Eames' prior incarnations were ghosts following Arthur, but it had been something more complicated than that. Ariadne hadn't felt completely comfortable asking either man what was going on. His last incarnation had been female, and he had tried seducing Arthur after shifting into Ariadne's form. Arthur had known something was different, but hadn't been able to guess it was Eames. He had thought someone had cursed Ariadne or a ghost had possessed her. She had walked into their hotel room and saw what was going on; since then, Arthur hadn't trusted Eames at all. He had saved their lives though, when another hunter used them as bait to trap a vampire nest, and Ariadne had thought it was Eames' way of apologizing for having fun at Arthur's expense. She knew that if Eames hadn't been the one to save them, Arthur would probably try to kill him for some of the stunts he had pulled.

"Where are we?" Arthur asked, distrust heavy in his tone.

"There's a munitions supplier here named Dominic Cobb. He's got two kids, both cute as a button. I think you'd like him. Think of him as a role model, even," Eames suggested helpfully. Arthur glared at him before getting out of the SUV. "Was it something I said?" he asked Ariadne, the picture of innocence.

"Do you really have to tease him quite so much? Really?" Ariadne asked in a tired voice.

"He's a stick in the mud otherwise."

"He's driven," Ariadne corrected. "You would be, too, with what's happened to his family."

Something shifted in Eames' expression that made Ariadne wonder about him. "Well. It's neither here nor there. Nor anywhere at all," he said, his voice shifting back into his usual playful tones. He reached out and grasped Ariadne's wrist tightly as she was about to exit the SUV. "Family is always important, darling. Not all family is made of blood ties."

Before she could even ask what he was talking about, Eames left the car and bounded up the steps to the sprawling farmhouse that he had been looking for. He banged on the door several times, then waited. He was dressed in a gray suit over a mauve shirt that was open at the throat, his hair combed back and that smile ready on his face. A tall man answered the door and regarded him somewhat warily. "Yeah?" he asked.

"Cobb. We've spoken over the phone."

"No, I'm pretty sure you've got the wrong address..."

"Mal would let me in," Eames replied quietly as Cobb was closing the door. He froze in place and regarded Eames suspiciously. "I've changed my face, is all. That's the way of it."

"Mal's not here," Cobb told him, strain in his voice. "She's gone."

"That's her way, too," Eames said, voice still quiet. "May we come in? There's a problem, and we're in need of your expertise."

Reluctantly, Cobb let them into the house and locked the door behind him. "There's word among hunters that Lucifer's back," Cobb told Eames. "How much of that is your doing?"

"None," Eames said honestly. "I don't truck with those fellows. Even less fun to play with than mortals are."

Whatever Cobb would have said in reply was cut off by a high pitched squeal of delight. "Uncle Eames!" came a girlish shriek as a young blonde girl in a pink dress ran into the living room and firmly attached herself to Eames' leg. If anything, that made Cobb frown even more.

"Phillipa, poppet!" Eames proclaimed, stooping down to sweep her around in a circle before giving her a tight hug. "And where is young Master James?"

"Talking with the worms," she said solemnly. "They're telling secrets."

"Of course they are. So few are able to listen to them," Eames told her just as solemnly. "So tell me, poppet, how did you recognize this face and name?"

"I dreamed it, of course," she said brightly. She wrapped her arms around him tightly before squirming to be put down. "I'll show you my trick with the dolls after you're done in here."

Cobb glowered. "Phillipa, we talked about that," he said sternly. He was only too aware of the two strangers in his living room, their stances wary and the protective amulets and runes etched into their skin.

Eames hunkered down in front of Phillipa. "Poppet. You have to do as your father says. It's very important. Not many would understand the talents you possess."

"But you do. They do," she said, pointing at Arthur and Ariadne. "They wouldn't be afraid."

Letting out a soft sigh, Eames shook his head. "Yes, they would be, poppet. Especially that one," he said, pointing at Arthur, who glowered in response. "Go on. Talk to the worms and see if they tell you any different."

"But they never do," Phillipa whined.

Eames reached behind Phillipa's hair and plucked a coin from behind her ear. "There you are. See what they say about this."

"Faerie gold doesn't last long," she said with a dismissive sniff even as she snatched up the coin.

He gave her a smile as he stood. "Until sunset, poppet. Go see what mischief the worms will tell you about, and if they dream of being bigger."

Phillipa ran out into the backyard to join her brother. Cobb scowled at Eames. "You really shouldn't encourage her. Bad enough Mal..." His voice trailed off, pain lacing his tone. He cleared his throat. "Eames, is it now?"

"Until I change again," Eames agreed. He sat down on the couch and gestured for Arthur and Ariadne to do the same. "These are the Campbells. Friends of mine, after a fashion."

Cobb gave Eames an assessing look. "After a fashion."

"Under my protection," he said, voice firm and brooking no argument. Arthur looked at Eames, startled, and Ariadne let her hand fall to Arthur's knee. "As would be any of their bloodline, if they stopped being so bloody obstinate about not procreating," he added, looking at Arthur pointedly.

A smile broke out on Cobb's face. "Well, then. I suppose we're related," he said to Arthur and Ariadne. "I married his sister. She went by Mallorie while we were together."

"Were?" Ariadne asked when Cobb stopped speaking.

"She left. She said she was simply dreaming of humanity and needed to wake up to her true form." Cobb abruptly broke off. "I'm too sober for this."

"Focus," Eames told him, steel beneath his voice. "Mal is no more a creature to be controlled than anyone else in this room. The next generation is what I'm worried about. Lucifer is indeed walking the earth, and using demons to further his agenda. He's trying to convince his true vessel to let him in. Demons are crawling out of the Gates since more seals are getting broken."

"What are the Gates?" Ariadne asked, looking between the men in the room. None looked pleased with Eames' words.

"What do you want?" Cobb asked instead of answering.

"Ellen and Jo Harvelle are dead," Arthur said, looking at Cobb with an assessing gaze. "They were with the Winchesters, trying to stop Lucifer from doing something, I'm not sure exactly what."

"Oh. I've heard of them. They were in Nebraska when I first heard of them, going after a skinwalker." He smiled at Eames thinly. "I think they were more than a match for it."

"Not all skinwalkers are my kind, Cobb. You know that." Eames didn't appear perturbed at all.

"What are the Gates?" Ariadne repeated, voice a little louder.

"The Gates are the portal between the land of the dead and demons and our world." Cobb crossed the room and opened a cabinet to remove a bottle of whiskey. "I am entirely too sober for this conversation."

"Stay sober, Cobb. We need you to focus. I can't go near the Gates and they need to be shut if they're opening," Eames said.

"Why can't you?" Arthur asked sharply. In all his prior dealings with the trickster, Eames had never admitted to having limitations.

 _"Akbaatatdia_ forbade it," Eames replied, shrugging. "The One Who Has Made Everything," he translated for Ariadne's benefit. "He doesn't like my crossing boundaries like that anymore. I can cross whatever boundaries I like on this plane, but not between realms."

"Then how do you shut them?" Arthur asked, voice hard. "This needs to be done."

Cobb's laughter was harsh. "Blood of a willing sacrifice. The righteous incorruptible man must spill his heartsblood across the gate as he recites the incantation to shut the Gates. They'll remain closed for at least five millennia, and then it starts all over again."

Arthur's grip on Ariadne's hand was painfully tight. She refused to give any weight to the remark, even if Eames had called her incorruptible. She wouldn't be a willing sacrifice, so using her went right out the window. She understood Arthur's fear. He was constantly afraid that his protections weren't good enough, that he wouldn't react fast enough. "There has to be another way."

"Sure. Let it open all the way. It'll eventually swing back shut."

Eames' lip curled in derision as he watched Cobb pour himself a hefty drink. "So glad you can give me a drink, Cobb," he said, standing and taking the glass. "Your children are outside."

There was something almost vicious in Cobb's gaze at Eames. "You _never_ bring good tidings, you know. You're _never_ here without some kind of bad news coming my way. The one good thing in my life just _went away_ because of you," he snarled, poking Eames in the chest. "Tell me why I shouldn't try to kill you right now."

"Phillipa would see it in a dream," Eames told him quietly. "And maybe Mal will come back to you. Even I haven't seen her. She goes where she wishes."

Both Arthur and Ariadne felt uncomfortable and awkward. She could see Arthur shift uncomfortably in his seat, and wondered if he was trying to unsheathe his knife without either man noticing. She had her Springfield Armory subcompact pistol in her coat pocket, and she could easily get it out of her pocket holster fairly quickly if she had to. No one ever really looked at women as dangerous, especially petite ones, after all. All hunters pretty much assumed that petite women with pixie features were victims, so arguments tended to occur around her without anyone noticing her taking it all in.

"If you won't help us, do you know anyone that will?" Arthur asked abruptly, interrupting their argument. "We need all the help we can get to stop Lucifer."

Cobb looked over at Arthur. "I don't follow what other hunters do. I've been out of the loop for a while now. I know John Winchester's gone off the grid. Talk is that he simply dropped dead of a heart attack." He turned and looked down the hallway that eventually led to the kitchen and back door. "It's almost time for me to make dinner for the kids. You can stay overnight if you want. Past that, I can't help you, no matter what name you go by."

"We'll need supplies."

He looked at Eames with a blank gaze. "I've been out of the loop. That means completely, Eames. I've given all my equipment away." At Eames' pointed look, Cobb sighed. "Yusuf's got all my old gear. He's in the middle of everything. He should know more."

"I know Yusuf," Arthur said, sounding surprised.

"Most people do," Cobb replied, not looking at Arthur. "He's more of a people person."

Eames waited until Cobb was in the kitchen to start dinner. "We can probably visit Yusuf quickly tonight. After dinner."

"We spent all day in the car," Arthur protested.

"Yusuf has a workshop an hour away from here." Eames looked thoughtful. "Perhaps he's even supplied the Winchester brothers before."

"What was that about protecting me?" Arthur asked, standing up. His hands looked loose at his sides, but Ariadne knew that the knife inside his sleeve wasn't that difficult to get out if he really needed it, let alone the Glock 17 tucked under his arm. "Was that bullshit or was that true?"

"This isn't the time or place for it," Eames replied, shaking his head sharply.

"No, this is absolutely the time and place for it," Arthur argued, jaw thrust out stubbornly. "You said it. What does it mean?"

Ariadne stood and placed a hand along Arthur's back in silent support. She pleaded silently with Eames to tell it straight, rather than slip back into his halfway joking tendencies. Arthur's nerves were much too frayed for that. "Just tell us," she said softly.

Eames blew out a breath. "What you know of as reality is sometimes called the First World by paranormal scholars. The underground, the things in the dark, the things like me, that reality is called the Second World. I put the word out among Second Worlders that you and Ariadne, as well as whatever progeny you might have, are not to be touched. That you're _mine._ It's generally honored when a greater being makes a statement like that."

"When did you say that?" Arthur asked, tension in his form.

"The last time we met," Eames admitted with a shrug. "It won't keep the humans from hurting either of you, but Second Worlders don't fuck with the higher ups as a general rule."

"What do demons count as?" Ariadne asked.

"None of the above, unfortunately," Eames replied. He suddenly looked tired and weary. "I don't fuck with you all the time, Arthur. All right? I actually _like_ you. I want you to hang around a while."

He didn't know how to respond to that, but he stopped looking ready to flick the knife out from its hidden location in the jacket of his arm. "And him? He was married to your sister?"

"She went by Mallorie here." Eames scrubbed at his jaw tiredly. "You think I'm bad? She was worse. Or better, depending on your point of view. She was lovely," he said finally, looking up. "It was impossible not to love her if you knew her. But no one can hold her interest for long, let alone someone mortal. He couldn't make her stay. No one could."

"And you? Does that mean someday you'll leave us, too?"

Eames was in front of them in an instant, something dark and smoldering in his eyes. "I know better," he said before spinning around and leaving the room for the backyard.

***  
***


	2. We Raise A Fever

"Can I see your guns?"

Ariadne looked up, startled. She had been unpacking a few of her things from her duffel bag and had been planning to do the same with Arthur's. Cobb had let her use the washing machine in the basement, which saved her a roll of quarters at the laundromat. Little Phillipa was there, blue eyes large and assessing. That gaze was too old in her young face, and Ariadne was reminded of the fact that she was only half human. "What?"

"Daddy got rid of all of his stuff when James and I got into his gear. He didn't like the thought that we can open the gun safes and get into the basement closet any time we want." She stepped into the room delicately and looked at the overnight and makeup cases lying on the bed. "Can you show me how to do makeup, too?" she asked, sounding more like a little girl. "I know it's something that Mom used to do. But she went away, so there's no one to show me anymore."

Knowing what it was like to lose her parents, Ariadne nodded. "Is any of her stuff still around?"

"Her clothes are in the attic. Everything else..." Phillipa shook her head. "She got tired of us," she said quietly, hurt evident in her tone. "She was only dreaming of us. She had to wake up. And when she remembers that we existed, we probably won't be here anymore, either. Time moves differently when you don't have to wear human flesh."

Pulling her down to sit beside her on the bed, Ariadne took out her brush and started brushing Phillipa's hair. She had the girl hold onto her jeweled barrettes as she brushed the blonde strands into a smooth sheet. "How much do you know about what you are?" she asked, not bothering to hide her curiosity. Phillipa seemed to be straightforward and reasonable.

"We're halflings. Or demigods, if you think of the Second Worlders as gods," Phillipa began quietly. "There are other names, other things to call what we really are, but I can't say them. I can't talk about what goes on behind the masks. It could ruin everything." She paused and looked down at her fingers. "We can do things... James can talk to animals. Any kind, any time. He thinks it's cool. Sometimes it is."

Ariadne smiled encouragingly at Phillipa. "You mentioned that you dreamed things?"

"I dreamed of you. And Arthur. You have babies," she said abruptly. "Uncle Eames was there, and that's why I knew what his name was this time around. He likes them. The babies, I mean. He made silly faces at them."

Ariadne took the barrettes back and clipped her hair away from her heart shaped face. "Things get complicated..."

"I'm human, too." Phillipa jumped down from the bed, Ariadne's make up case in hand. "There's better light in my room. And a mirror!"

Phillipa's room was white and pink, with lots of ruffles on the window valences and bed skirt. She had a small ornate dressing table with three paneled mirror, and she sat in front of it to assess herself in the mirror. Ariadne knelt beside her and took back the case. "You're very pretty."

"So was Mom. She was good with guns, too. That's how my parents met. Daddy made the special bullets she needed to stop the demons that were hunting her." Phillipa looked at Ariadne with solemn eyes. "Demons are bad, even I know that. They have a plan, and they like hurting people. They like making them burn."

Ariadne thought of the burn scar on Arthur's chest. "Yes, they do."

"I didn't get a good look at your guns," she said, sitting patiently as Ariadne brushed some eye shadow on her closed eyelids. "In the dream, I mean. I know you have them. Daddy won't let me train with them, but dreams only tell me so much. I'm not good at warping reality yet, and maybe I'll never be. So I'll need to know how to protect myself. I wanted to see what yours look like, so if I have to, I can find one."

Smiling sadly, Ariadne brushed eye shadow over Phillipa's other eyelid. "They're not toys, Phillipa. They can seriously hurt someone. Or something, depending on the type of bullet we make for them. They're not the only weapons hunters use. There's crossbows and arrows, knives, clubs, rune traps, that sort of thing."

Phillipa's eyes opened as Ariadne reached for her mascara. "My size won't protect me forever. There are some that hunt demigods, too. They think we're all evil, that every shapeshifter or skinwalker should be eliminated. That we're the same as demons or werewolves, that we have no minds. I don't want to hurt anybody. That's why I can't ask Daddy about these things anymore. It hurts him to think about Mom leaving us, about how they met. But I need to know. When I get old enough, I need to protect myself, and I need to protect James. He's too young. He doesn't understand these things."

"How old are you, Phillipa?" Ariadne asked gently, beginning to put the mascara on.

"Eight. James is four. I'm responsible for him. I have to teach him what to do. Daddy can't."

Ariadne was quiet for a moment as she helped Phillipa put on her lipstick. She put her face beside Phillipa's and the two of them looked into the mirror. "Your Dad's going to be mad at me," she said slowly. "So we'll talk about other stuff he probably won't want to talk about."

"Like sex?" Phillipa asked with a laugh. "I overheard Daddy talking with Nash about it once. He got red in the face when he saw I was listening."

"Yeah," she said with a smile. "If he asks what we're talking about, we'll tell him that. Or girl stuff. That's better, really, because this totally counts as girl stuff. The guns I use are different from what Arthur uses, since I'm smaller than he is. You have to take that into consideration when you're picking out guns to use."

Phillipa lit up at the pronouncement; she was used to being shunted aside from hunter discussions because she was considered a child and too young to consider any of those things. Ariadne was treating her with more respect, almost like a grownup. "I like you," she said quietly. "I'm glad Uncle Eames put a protection on you, too." She traced a pattern on Ariadne's forehead that seemed entirely too complicated to be anything less than a protection circle. "Second Worlders can see it, but ordinary humans can't. Demons ignore them."

"Let's hope we don't meet any demons, right?"

"At least if you don't have Daddy's special bullets."

Cobb was busy playing with James, and Eames and Arthur had gone out on an errand that Cobb didn't question them about. Ariadne shut and locked the door to the guest room and dug into the various duffel bags and cases she had brought with her. On one hand, she was almost sad that her entire life fit into three duffel bags, two backpacks and a carry-on suitcase that held her bathroom bag, makeup case and various odds and ends. On the other, her eyes were open to the realities of the world, and she would much rather have the knowledge about the things that scurried in the dark. There was a collection of pistols hidden in the different bags, and Ariadne was clear about which gun went where and why, explaining her reasoning along the way. The Springfield Armory XD subcompact in a pocket holster was usually in her jacket, but she had a second one that she kept in her purse. She kept a Bersa Thunder Deluxe in her bathroom case, which she generally hung on the shower rod while she was in there. There were three SIG Sauer P245 pistols in her bags, and she pulled out one of Arthur's SIG Sauer P220 pistols to show Phillipa the difference in sizes.

Phillipa's eyes were wide and round as saucers as she looked over the guns on the bed. Ariadne let her pick up and hold the Bersa to get a feel for its weight. "These are smaller and work for me, but they hold fewer rounds in the magazines than Arthur's would. So it's a trade off." She took the gun back and showed Phillipa how it fit better in her hands than Arthur's P220. "But that's what practice is for. I have to make sure my aim is good enough to stop whatever I'm shooting at. And if I shoot, it's for a good reason. Not for showing off, not for looking cool. If my finger's on the trigger, I'm shooting and odds are, I'm shooting to kill."

"Have you had to kill anyone?" Phillipa asked quietly, prior bravado all gone. Now she looked like a scared eight year old that wished she hadn't asked to see behind the curtain.

"Yes," Ariadne said softly, starting to put the guns away. "I had a good reason, but yes, I killed people. Or things that looked like people. But they still died. You have to take that seriously. Life is important, no matter whose it is."

"Even demons?" Phillipa asked in a wavering tone.

Pressing her lips together unhappily, Ariadne nodded. "But I'll be honest. If it's between a demon or me? Or Arthur? Or any of you? I'd still shoot them. I still have to save my family. That's what it's all about."

They were startled by the knock on the door and Cobb calling for Phillipa. Ariadne pulled out some of her shirts and skirts, as if showing Phillipa how to dress for a fancy party, then went to the door. "Hey. What's up?" she asked, looking innocent.

Cobb looked into the room. "It's almost time for bed, Phillipa. What were you doing in here?"

"Girl stuff," Phillipa said sweetly. She turned her made up face to her father. "Ariadne's teaching me things."

His expression softened as he traced the jeweled barrettes in her hair. "Yeah. I see that."

"I'm looking pretty, right, Daddy?"

He knelt down and swept her up into a hug. "You're _always_ pretty, Phillipa. C'mon. Let's wash up for bed." He laughed as Phillipa heaved a dramatic sigh and scampered. "Thanks. She can be a handful sometimes, I know."

Ariadne smiled. "She's a wonderful girl. Much smarter for her age in some ways."

A shadow passed over Cobb's features; he was likely thinking of Mal and her desertion of their family. "Yes, she is. It's hard to shelter her with this kind of lifestyle."

"Or her heritage," Ariadne guessed. She wasn't gratified by Cobb's unhappy nod. "She'll need guidance for all of that, if something comes for her."

"I know," he sighed. "I just want it put off as long as possible."

"If demons come, you might not have a choice," she said gently.

"Good night, Ariadne," Cobb said firmly. "We're heading to bed. Lock up after Eames and Arthur when they get back, okay?"

Ariadne agreed and watched him go down the hall to take care of his children, shoulders slightly stooped. He carried the weight of knowledge on those shoulders, as well as the responsibility of caring for halfling children that the outside world might never understand. She didn't envy him that task at all.

***

Eames drove to Yusuf's workshop, Arthur in the passenger seat of the SUV. He remained stubbornly silent despite Eames' attempts to draw him into conversation. Finally, he turned to Arthur. "You're usually much more interested in throwing curse words at me. What's different?"

"You _marked_ me. Like I'm some kind of property," Arthur hissed.

"You and Ariadne have lovely protection tattoos on your fingers like rings," Eames replied mildly. "Would you say you've marked each other as property?"

"No," Arthur said, recoiling. "It's nothing like that."

"This is the same thing. It's a protection. A stamp of approval, if you will. To say you're favored by me, and that if any of the Second World brings you harm, they have to answer to me." Eames' smile was sharp and full of teeth, resembling the Coyote that Arthur knew he was. "So you see, it's not a property marker whatsoever."

"I didn't ask for this."

"No, you did not." Eames turned back to the road and hummed along with the radio. "Are you angry with me, then?"

"Why?" Arthur asked, staring at his profile. "Why did you do it? You do nothing but pick on me and fuck with me. Why?"

"Because you are precious," Eames replied solemnly, eyes still fixed on the road. He made the turn toward Yusuf's workshop. "You and Ariadne are precious to me. You are both very important, Arthur. I would give you what protection I can to keep you both hale and whole. It would pain me if you died."

Arthur's eyes were wide and his mouth was dry. He never would have believed it if someone else told him that Eames actually _liked_ him, and it wasn't just that the trickster liked fucking around with his head for kicks. "Then why do you pick at me the way you do?" he asked in confusion. "I don't understand."

"You're an awful stick in the mud," Eames said, lips twisting into a sardonic smile. "No imagination. Well, not no imagination, really. But limited to basic survival. Admit it, you need me to spice up your incredibly dull life. If not for me, you wouldn't have met our luscious Ariadne. If not for me, you wouldn't have half the contacts you do."

"If not for you, I'd have my sanity," Arthur muttered under his breath.

Eames chuckled. "Oh, Arthur. Sanity is terribly overrated. Trust me, I've tried it both ways. It's much better to straddle the line between them."

Not knowing what else to say, Arthur remained silent until they pulled into the driveway outside of Yusuf's workshop. Arthur had been there once before, about a year or so ago, when he ran out of materials and couldn't make his own specialized bullets. It wasn't terribly hard to find empty shotgun shells to fill with salt, but sometimes it was hard to find the raw silver and lead he needed to melt down and smith his own bullets. Yusuf made hundreds of specialized rounds daily, inscribed with Latinate verses or symbols from various mystical languages and traditions. The man was a legend, and it was a wonder he hadn't been hunted down by the Second Worlders.

Then again, Yusuf also didn't go out into the field. Ever.

He was bent over one of his workbenches, setting up his O ring presses and other equipment to handload bullets. He didn't even look up as Eames and Arthur walked in; if they got past the first rings of protections and then the very suspicious front office staff, Yusuf was likely safe from whoever was walking in. It might have looked random, but he had the powder, casings, molds, brass and primers in neat piles on his bench. He had silver melted down on one bench, lead in another and copper in a third. Nothing was labeled, but he was the only one that actually worked in this particular room. His staff knew that they weren't to bother touching anything in this room on pain of death.

Literally; he had carved a former assistant into pieces for fucking with his equipment and screwing up a batch of a hundred silver bullets he had washed in holy water.

"So how can I help you, gentlemen?" he asked, looking up when he was finished with the setup. He took off his glasses and let them hang from the chain around his neck. He folded his arms and took in the sight of Eames and Arthur. If Arthur looked remotely familiar, Yusuf didn't visibly change his expression.

"Demon grade," Arthur replied in clipped tones. He had visited Yusuf's shop once before, but most of his other orders had been all via mail and phone calls with the front office staff. One visit previously had been all he needed to assure himself that Yusuf had the setup necessary to build the bullets to take down weres and skinwalkers easily. Arthur made his own salt shotgun shells, but carting around all the equipment to handload bullets took up precious space in the back of his car, especially once he and Ariadne got together. It was easier to simply buy whatever he needed and couldn't easily make.

Yusuf lofted an eyebrow. "That's a rarity."

"It exists," Eames said with a smile. "I know you have Cobb's old equipment."

"Do I really?"

"He told me himself this past afternoon," Eames replied seriously. "He and I have something of a family connection."

"Ah. And this one?"

"Third generation hunter," Arthur replied, voice firm.

"And if this goes well, there might be a fourth generation, yes?" Eames asked with a smile. He laughed at Arthur's glare and turned back to Yusuf. "Do we pass muster, Yusuf?"

Yusuf merely smiled, and Arthur remembered that the man likely had blades everywhere. He looked mild, but that meant jack and shit in this kind of life. "I suppose you both do. If you're after Cobb's brand of weapons and ammunition, I suppose you'd like to see the materials?"

"It would be helpful, yeah," Arthur replied.

"I saw the Winchesters some time ago. They're the only other ones that ever asked about demon grade weaponry. Are you working with them? I hadn't heard from them in some time."

"The Winchesters," Arthur said, voice hollow. His gut tightened at the thought of his cousins standing in Yusuf's workshop, looking for things to take down demons. How much did they really intend to take down the demons, anyway? No one who truly wanted to destroy demons and send them back to Hell would drink demon blood or willingly work with them.

"Sure. John and Dean Winchester. Nice enough fellows, though I think the elder had a distinct agenda in mind."

"Sounds like the Winchesters we know," Eames supplied when Arthur couldn't speak. "Though it's Sam and Dean that are hunting now, not John. They definitely have an agenda for stopping the apocalypse. I think ours dovetails with theirs."

"Well," Yusuf replied with a nod, leading them down a set of stairs into a basement. "In that case, I think you'll enjoy what I'm about to show you." He paused at the threshold of the basement area, all unfinished and rough hewn walls, bare bulbs hanging down from an unfinished ceiling. "But perhaps you do not want to see."

"I want to see," Arthur told Yusuf firmly. "I want to see everything."

Yusuf's smile was full of teeth and not very comforting at all. "Then let's see what there is to see, shall we?"

***

Ariadne woke when Arthur crept back into the house. "Where's Eames?"

"Getting drunk on rotgut in the garage. He said I needed space."

"Kind of him," Ariadne replied with a smile, looping her arms around Arthur and kissing away the surly note in his voice. "Is he planning on coming in the house tonight?"

"He said he'd head out for a bit and be back in time for breakfast."

Ariadne threw the deadbolts and led Arthur up to their bedroom. As he got ready for bed, stripping his knives and guns from their hiding places on his thin frame, Ariadne locked the door and shimmied out of her clothes. Her blood had been running hot this particular night, maybe because of one raunchy comment too many from Eames. She turned and saw Arthur's eyes locked to her naked body, blown wide and dark with lust. He licked his lips as she came closer, hips swaying. "No one's listening in, then," she said softly, helping him take off his shirt. His belt was next. "I promise I'll be quiet."

He pounced on her, pushing her back into the bed and peppering her face with tiny, desperate kisses that told her without words how much he needed her, how scared he was of losing her. There was too much at stake between them if demons came too close, and Arthur was _terrified_ of losing the only family he had left. He wound his hands in her hair, his tongue in her mouth and his weight pressing her down. "Hard," she whispered against his mouth. "Show me."

Arthur didn't need an engraved invitation. His mouth traveled to her jaw and neck, a hand at her breast and the other tangled between her thighs. Ariadne bit her lip to hide her moans, and she let her breath fracture as she writhed beneath him. He sucked her skin, nipped along the curve of her neck, marking her. She would have to wear a scarf in the morning to hide the marks, but it was always worth it. She dragged her nails down his back and held his shoulder tightly as she came, her lips parted around a cry she couldn't make. Arthur knew how to make her body sing, her breath fracture and her mind short circuit from the pleasure. He kissed his way down and then mouthed her core, roughly pushing his tongue as deep as he could into her, resembling a starving man before a feast. Ariadne shoved a fist into her mouth to hide the moans she couldn't help making, her entire body quivering beneath his mouth.

He pushed into her after she came again, rough and hard and deep, exactly as she had asked of him. He held her wrists down and pumped fast against her, his mouth slanted over hers and his tongue touching her lips. The kiss swallowed her cries as she clenched down hard around him, her legs high around his waist and ankles hooked together. She was close, so close, riding high and just about to crash over the edge. It was a muffled wail when she did come, tight enough to make Arthur groan and collapse on top of her.

It was only afterward that Ariadne remembered there was nothing to clean themselves up with, and that she hadn't gotten a condom first. She closed her eyes and waited for the cursing that would inevitably come when Arthur realized it.

But he curled around her, breathing slowing. It had been a long day, and this had sapped the last of his strength. Ariadne threaded her fingers through his hair with one hand and pulled the covers over them with her other hand. "I love you, Arthur," she whispered against his ear.

"Love you so much," he returned sleepily, his arms tightening around her for a moment. Then he relaxed, shifting until his head was pillowed on her breasts, and allowed himself to sleep.

Ariadne closed her own eyes and let herself fall asleep. Time enough to worry about demons and Gates and the end of the world in the morning.

***

They took over Cobb's basement to do laundry and a weapons check. Every knife was sharpened and cleaned, every gun taken apart, cleaned, oiled and inspected. Every bullet was examined, especially the new batches that Arthur had bought from Yusuf. Eames had contributed quite a bit to the purchase, it seemed; Ariadne couldn't remember ever having a stash this big. "This isn't going to be like the Colt. Yusuf talked about it a little, that it was a sort of pipe dream John Winchester was talking about once. A gun that could kill anything, even demons. Not just send them past the Gates, but _kill_ them." Arthur held up the bullets that Yusuf had crafted, symbols inscribed on the jackets with painstaking care. "These are close, but they're not the same thing. It won't be a one shot kill like with the Colt. That one was special, and _nobody_ has the formula to make those bullets anymore. These were as close as he could get, and his reports tell him that they're pretty damn good. Fuckers go down with a fight, but they go down and stay the hell down once they drop."

Ariadne took the bullet and checked the inscriptions. "These are familiar."

"Yeah. I'm not sure about the actual inscriptions, but the individual symbols are familiar."

"Ah, this is where you've run off to," Eames declared, coming into the basement. "And you've turned the laundry room into an armory. How charming." He smiled at Arthur and Ariadne; she couldn't name the look in his eyes when he took in how close they were, their belongings spread out in front of them. "I've located the Winchesters. Were you planning on joining the two of them? Honestly, I think that might be the best plan. You might keep them from getting themselves killed in this mess."

"Why do you think so?" Ariadne asked. Arthur was staunchly loading magazines with the specialized bullets, avoiding Eames' gaze.

"Demons are involved, my darling girl. I don't trust them worth a damn, any more than you do. Their sense of fun is so..." He pulled a face, making a moue of disgust. "Not my style at all. They like death and destruction and toppling everything to ruin, then dancing on the graves of honored dead. Too macabre and over the top."

"You're a trickster," Arthur replied sourly, looking up as he pushed a bullet into the magazine. "You're all about over the top."

"Of a different sort, darling," Eames drawled. He held up a silver bullet that had been in their stores for several months. "Like what this bullet harms is a different sort from me." He put it down on the table with a flourish and sketched a bow. "We can leave after lunch, my darlings. I'll take you right to Bobby. Your cousins are heading to his home now."

"We don't necessarily need to go with you," Arthur said, putting down the magazine. "We can handle ourselves."

"You asked for my help." Eames' eyes were dark as a cloudless midnight sky without stars. "You need more than references to Cobb or Yusuf. Sam and Dean are _marked,_ Arthur. And it's not a protection circle like I've sketched over the two of you."

Arthur thought his breath stopped in his chest. "What?"

"They are the true vessels for Lucifer and Michael," Eames said, a measure of sympathy in that cultured British voice. Idly picking up Ariadne's primary knife, he looked from the sharpened edge to Arthur. "There are bloodlines out there that allow angels and demons to wear a body without wearing it out despite the strength of power in the supernatural creature. The combination of Campbell and Winchester blood made both Sam and Dean true vessels." He looked at them earnestly. "They're not going to stop going after your cousins. They will be at the very heart of the war."

He returned the knife to Ariadne, and she couldn't help but wonder if he had charmed it somehow, imbued it with some of his spirit. The knife felt lighter in her hand, easier to wield. She was glad it was her primary one he had picked up. "That doesn't mean anything bad's going to happen to us," she told Arthur.

She could see the tremor in his hand, the shaking in his spine. He was castigating himself, she knew. Not good enough, not fast enough, not bright enough.

Ariadne knew her words were hollow. They could be collateral damage in the war between the demons and angels, especially if the Winchester brothers were at the heart of it.

"Cheer up," Eames said, making a sweeping gesture across the table. "I've found your cousins. No needles in haystacks for you. We'll be there by nightfall, the way I drive, and you'll see for yourself. You'll learn the truth of it all by tonight. Isn't that better?"

Arthur looked up, and the bleak cast to his gaze made Ariadne want to cry. "I'll feel better when Lucifer is back in Hell, the Gates are closed and my family is _safe."_

"I promise you, Arthur," Eames said, leaning forward. "I will do everything in my power to make that happen."

Ariadne believed him. And judging by the way Arthur's shoulders loosened, he did, too.

***  
***


	3. All To See Here

Eames driving that afternoon was nearly impossible to track. That didn't stop them from trying, which was an exercise in futility; neither Ariadne nor Arthur could figure out where they were. The road wasn't on any map, the bugs looked positively prehistoric and the desert around them looked like nothing either had seen of the midwest. If either of them had to guess, Eames was taking them _between,_ which was all but impossible for mortals to survive without going insane. Of course, they were under his protection and not foolish enough to tumble from the SUV while he was driving, but it was still unnerving to contemplate. Ariadne threaded her fingers through Arthur's and tried not to shiver at the thought of being lost _between_ for eternity. It would pass in a moment or drag out until her bones were dust, depending on the eddy of magical current she was caught on. Hunters whispered about the Second Worlders and the places they had come from; no matter what names the hunters used, it all boiled down to the same thing: no one survived prolonged exposure to the weird and wacky that made up the Second World.

Eames threw his hand behind him, unerringly landing on their tangled hands. "There, now. This is a short cut, is all. Welcome to South Dakota. There's still some Creation left in me, after all." He turned his head to look at them and winked slyly, then slowed. Outside of the SUV, it almost looked like they had come out into real space again, with roads that looked like roads again. Sunset had already passed, and the sky was darkening as they pulled into the parking lot of Singer Auto Self Service Salvage Yard. It looked run down, and Ariadne missed Cobb's guest room already.

Striding confidently to the front door of the house, Eames knocked on the door. He scoffed at Arthur's low "He's not going to answer you," and merely knocked in a more commanding way, grinning at the fish eye lens in the door. "Oi! Bobby! Open up."

The door opened a crack, door chain in place. Bobby eyed him warily, looking up at them from his wheelchair, hands hidden behind the door. Arthur was convinced he had a 12 gauge shotgun aimed at them. "Who the fuck are you?"

"I've sometimes been known as Coyote and this is Arthur Campbell," Eames said, not looking perturbed in the slightest. Something ticked in Bobby's jaw at the name Coyote, but there was only mistrust in his eyes, not the all consuming anger that had been in Arthur's. Then again, Eames hadn't fucked with his head one time too many.

Ariadne merely linked her hand with Arthur's, lending him some of her quiet strength. She watched Bobby shut the door far enough to slide back the chain. He didn't invite them in yet, merely poured out water for the three of them from a pitcher by the door.

Bobby stared at them all as they drank, unperturbed. It had been years since he had seen Arthur Campbell last, but that didn't mean he would automatically trust him. Especially not now. He didn't even flick his eyes up at the demon trap painted above the entrance way to his home. None of the three were screaming in terror or pain, and all three could progress into his living room without getting stuck once he wheeled out of the way. They weren't demons.

"Glad to know you're still taking my advice," Eames said with an approving smile.

"It works," Bobby said with a shrug.

"What are you talking about?" Ariadne asked, confused.

"Holy water."

"We're not demons," she said. "We're trying to kill them."

"Good to know," Bobby said with a brisk nod. He turned to Eames. "So what name are you using this time around, Coyote?"

"Eames. I thought it sounded classy."

"And she is?" Bobby asked, eying Ariadne's clear eyes staring at him.

"My wife," Arthur replied stiffly. "Her name is Ariadne."

He nodded at them, accepting the introduction before turning back to Eames. "So you're helping the Campbells now?" Bobby asked. "I wasn't aware of the connection before."

"His bodyguard, after a fashion," Eames replied cheerfully as Arthur intoned "My own personal curse." Eames shook his head. "Arthur, really, that wasn't nice."

"It wasn't meant to be," Arthur replied.

"Honestly, you still can't hold all of those old stunts against me," he huffed, staring him down until he looked away in shame. "I think I've proven my usefulness and goodwill toward you and Ariadne plenty of times over by now."

Eames had, but Arthur was still wary of the trickster. He was afraid to trust him; the tides could turn and Eames would no longer care what happened to Arthur and Ariadne. Once that happened, he might think it would be hilarious to withdraw his protection. Arthur couldn't afford to trust someone so changeable, not when he still had Ariadne's safety to think about. And his cousins, truth be told. They could _not_ be allowed to become Lucifer and Michael and could not be allowed to let the apocalypse happen.

Arthur didn't voice this concern. Instead, he looked at Bobby. 

"You sent me word that Ellen and Jo are dead. We're here to help however we can." He eyed Eames and sighed. "I already know about the vessel situation. That absolutely can't happen."

Bobby blew out a breath. He seemed tired suddenly. "They're upstairs."

"We plan on helping however we can," Ariadne said without preamble. "You know we're not demons, and we're family to the brothers. So what can we do?"

Bobby gave her a long look before nodding. "Oh, yeah. She's a Campbell, all right." He gave Arthur a warm smile for the first time. "You did good, boy. C'mon to the kitchen then. And Eames, was it? I still have that grimoire you told me to keep. You plan on taking it back?"

"Not yet. Hang onto it."

Nodding, Bobby poured them all coffee and sat down at the table. "All right. We lost Ellen and Jo because of a ritual Lucifer was doing to set Death free from confinement."

"Death," Arthur echoed as Eames merely let out a sad sigh and looked down into his coffee. It was an odd reaction from the trickster, but Arthur let it go.

"And it worked," Bobby replied, shaking his head. "The entire plan was to shoot Lucifer with the Colt yesterday."

"Wait... You actually found it?" Ariadne blurted.

Arthur frowned as Bobby nodded. "So Lucifer's dead."

"No, he isn't," came a rough voice in the doorway. Ariadne and Arthur turned to face Dean Winchester's grim expression. "Fucker can't be killed with it, even though I shot him right in the middle of his damn head."

"We are so fucked, then," Arthur groaned.

"Yeah," Dean agreed, passing by the assemblage at the table to get a cup of coffee. "I can't sleep," he intoned to Bobby. He then turned to the rest of the assemblage. "Welcome to the apocalypse." After pouring himself a cup, he looked at Bobby before nodding in the direction of the other three. "So are these friends of yours?"

Bobby scowled at Dean, not sure what to say. Arthur had always insisted that the Winchester brother not be told that there was a surviving Campbell cousin; he had been convinced that there was a curse on the Campbell family which had led to every other member of his extended family dying horrible deaths. Arthur still wasn't entirely sold on the idea that it was simply a function of every Campbell being a hunter.

"I'm your cousin, Dean," Arthur said when Bobby didn't answer. "My name is Arthur Campbell, and I'm a third generation hunter like you."

Dean scowled. "Pretty damn convenient to have a cousin crawling out of the woodwork _now,_ isn't it?"

"Don't be stupid, Dean," Bobby snapped irritably, banging his hand into the kitchen table. "I'm the one that told him about what happened yesterday."

"Did you think we were here for Thanksgiving dinner?" Arthur snapped irritably when Dean remained silent but his scowl deepened. As much as they were family, Arthur still didn't approve of Dean's tactics in the slightest.

"This is getting us nowhere," Ariadne said, interrupting whatever else Arthur was about to say. "We're all family in this room, right?"

"Maybe not him," Arthur intoned under his breath, eyeing Eames. The trickster rolled his eyes but only sipped at his own coffee.

"So why are you here?" Dean asked, anger suffusing his tone. "Why now?" Ariadne rather thought it was a hefty dose of self-recrimination, considering the fact that Lucifer was still very much alive and had succeeded in resurrecting Death from his confinement in Hell.

"Bobby called me," Arthur replied icily. "There aren't many hunters left that are taking the seals seriously. A lot of them out there that know about them gave up when the apocalypse started. But we're still trying to close whatever we find, just to make it harder for demons to come through however we can." His jaw was tight from tension, and he barely responded to Ariadne putting a gentle hand on his arm in support. "I don't like what I've heard about what your involvement was in all this, or what Sam did. But you're family, and I really don't have family left other than you two."

Dean narrowed his eyes at Arthur's pronouncement. "If you're so hot on stopping the apocalypse, why is this the first time I've ever met you?"

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to not go for his Glock. "What do you know about the Campbells, Dean?"

He frowned at Arthur. "Some uncle we never met took care of my mother's headstone. My grandparents were hunters. So what?"

"As far as I know, I'm the last one alive that carries the Campbell name. Everyone else in the family is dead." He took his hand away from his face. "Except for you two, but the angels are saving you both for later."

A muscle in Dean's jaw twitched. "Ain't gonna happen."

Arthur snorted. "They're angels and they can do whatever the fuck they want. It's only a matter of time before they _make_ you do something."

"You've dealt with angels before, then?" Dean asked sarcastically. "Because I got one upstairs and he's not making me do shit I don't want to do." Not much, anyway.

"So you've got one angel in your corner," Arthur told him, voice icy and eyes clear and cold. It was the hard hunter's look, the one that Ariadne had seen on his face countless times during a job, and it sometimes chilled her to the bone to see it. "Do you know how many angels there are out there? How many walking around or are still up in heaven ready to warp reality around? How many that are just itching to _make_ you fall into line?"

Eames looked discomfited by Arthur's words, and he abruptly got up from the table. "This is a war," he said in a low tone. "Both sides play dirty pool."

"You sound like you've dealt with them before," Dean remarked, sipping his coffee while giving Eames an assessing glance.

"Old ones and angels don't always get along," Eames replied evasively. "Well, the ancient Greeks knew how to throw a party," he corrected himself. He leaned against a counter and shrugged. "Deal with one angel, you've dealt with them all."

"Most angels are dicks," Dean replied.

"Yeah, well. There's a distinct lack of imagination and free will on their part. They toe the party line and don't think to question it. Or _think,_ period."

"That sounds rather familiar," came a sleepy sounding voice from outside the kitchen. All heads turned to see a man in a dark, rumpled suit wearing a rumpled trench coat. His gaze landed on Eames and it suddenly sharpened. "You."

"I go by Eames currently," he said with a smooth smile. "Sounds rather posh, yes?"

"And you are what exactly?" Dean asked as the trench coat wearing man entered the kitchen. It was getting rather crowded, so the man was forced to nearly press himself into Dean's back. The hunter didn't exactly protest the move.

Eames smiled charmingly. "Coyote in the Midwest. _Akbaatatdia_ is the Father, The One Who Has Made All Things. Lovely people, the Apsaalooke. They still know how to show respect for creatures that carry a spark of Creation within them."

The man in the trench coat glowered at him. "You are not—"

"My sister is dead. Or as good as," Eames told him shortly, jaw tight. There was an undercurrent between the two men, something that made Ariadne and Arthur look at Eames in concern. "So you don't get to tell me what I am or am not. Are we understood, Castiel?"

Straightening his shoulders slightly, the man shook out his trench coat. "Completely. Eames."

"Yes. Remember that."

"You shift skins often," Castiel commented.

A muscle in Eames' jaw ticked in annoyance. "Perhaps more than some, who carry the same form for millennia. I happen to enjoy changing faces from time to time."

"Are you boys done with your fucking pissing contest?" Ariadne said when Castiel was about to open his mouth. "This is wasting time. Lucifer is out there and he has Death, right? So what are we going to do about it? Because I for one would rather go down fighting than rolling over and just taking whatever that bastard has planned for us."

Dean blinked in surprise and respect. "Sam's probably gonna be down in a minute. He couldn't sleep either, not after what happened. Problem is, our best plan was to use the Colt. I didn't miss, but it can't kill him."

"There has to be something else, then," Arthur said, looking over at Bobby. "Anything in the old books? There's got to be a mention."

"He's an angel," Bobby said, frustration showing as he leaned back slightly. "Most of what I have refers to demons of different kinds, creatures, that sort of thing. It might not apply to Lucifer, since he was originally an angel."

"Then how do you kill an angel?"

All eyes swung toward Castiel at Ariadne's question. He was unperturbed by the various gazes on him. "There are very few ways to do this," he began in a serious tone. "Another angel could do it, or an angel's sword..."

"We know the Colt won't work," Arthur muttered.

"It won't work on Archangels," Castiel corrected. "It would destroy angels of lesser station in the Host of Heaven."

"There are other things, other weapons," Eames said in a soft tone. "There aren't many of them, but the power they hold..."

"I am not in possession of such weapons," Castiel told Eames in grave tones. "Though I am a soldier in the army of the Lord, I no longer carry a sword. The other Angelic weapons remain in Heaven where they belong."

"How do you know about these things?" Dean asked Eames, suspicion in his tone.

"I know a whole host of things I ought not to know. It's rather the point of being Coyote," Eames replied, though his gaze was on Castiel. The angel didn't look particularly disturbed, and merely gave a dismayed shake of his head. "Regardless, we need to stop Lucifer. The Apocalypse is upon us all, but we can stop it from reaching its conclusion."

"How do we do that?" Dean asked as Sam entered the kitchen, looking worse for wear.

"By making sure neither of you are assumed as vessels," Eames said. 

Sam's look of surprise and wariness was almost comical. Or it would have been if the situation wasn't so dire and he didn't have a gun in hand pointed at Eames' head. "Who the hell are you?"

Eames sighed and lifted his hands dramatically to show that they were empty. "You know, I'd rather not mar this form if possible. I like this one, and it took forever to get here." He waited expectantly until Sam lowered the gun. "My thanks."

"So do you have a plan, or are you just going to talk at Lucifer all day?" Dean asked.

Eames looked over at Bobby with a sigh. "Best get that grimoire. Most of you lot can't read it, but it was never meant for human eyes."

Bobby wheeled out of the kitchen, grumbling under his breath about ungrateful tricksters and hardheaded Winchesters and Campbells. The kitchen was even more cramped now that Sam had arrived, so Eames snapped his fingers and the dimensions of the room seemed to expand without changing the structural integrity of the place. The table expanded as well, and there were now enough chairs for everyone to be seated. Giving everyone a pleased grin, Eames sat down beside Arthur and gestured magnanimously for the others to sit.

"This is an irregular use of your abilities," Castiel chided.

"I live for irregular," Eames replied sweetly. "Hence the concept of _Coyote."_

"Lucifer has raised Death from imprisonment, and this will spell doom for mankind." Castiel glowered at Eames. "Your machinations will backfire."

Bobby returned with a large leather bound book that contained parchment pages, symbols on its cover clearly Enochian script. All eyes swung from Bobby to Eames. The trickster figure shrugged and reached for the book. "I was hoping never to have to use this."

"What is it? That's angel writing," Dean said. Sam frowned at the cover, tracing the sigils with his gaze and recognizing one or two of them. His gaze flicked toward Arthur, Eames and Ariadne, suspicion in his eyes even if he didn't raise protest just yet.

"Well, many sacred things use this script," Eames replied, sadness in his tone. He ran his finger over the center sigil three times and the pages flew open as if a wind was gusting through the kitchen. Castiel glowered even further at Eames, who didn't bother to look up at him. "It's magic, of course. Very ancient magic, which means blood and death and sacrifice. Bindings, rituals, that sort of thing." He looked at Arthur with a pained expression. "I said I would help you, Arthur, and I will. I honor vows I make, which is why I never make them lightly. Please know that there is always a cost to using magicks like these."

Arthur frowned at the tone Eames was using. "What are you talking about?"

"Lucifer will likely know what I'm trying to do once I use any of the binding spells in this book and come after us. It may not work against an archangel, I'm not sure." He looked at the others grimly. "Someone will have to take the blame. Between the lot of us, Castiel and I would manage to last long enough to let the others get away."

"What? Explain that."

"Lucifer Morningstar is in possession of Death. It's only a matter of time before he has the other horsemen and truly brings the world to an end."

"Oh. That." Dean grinned at them suddenly. "I've already gotten one over on War and took his One Ring. Considering I don't know what the Mount Doom would be for the Horsemen of the Apocalypse, I still have it. Does that help?"

Eames grinned at Dean brightly. "Yes. Yes, it does. Now we just need to find Famine and Pestilence and take their rings. Lucifer has Death, but perhaps we can find Death and bind him from Lucifer's rituals. That would break his power, and we can try to turn it against him."

"This is too dangerous a plan," Castiel told him, shaking his head.

"What have we got to lose, Cas?" Sam asked, finally breaking his silence. By his body language, he clearly still didn't trust the Campbells or Eames. He was willing to listen, if only because Bobby trusted them. "We don't have much of a choice, do we? This is dangerous, but so is letting him take over my body."

"Not gonna happen," Dean growled.

"I'm with Sam on this one," Arthur said almost hesitantly, as if he didn't want to agree with Sam on anything. That didn't endear Sam to him at all. "We need to do whatever we can to stop him."

"It will be difficult to stop him. He was an Archangel, after all," Castiel warned them. "Though he has fallen, he still retains the powers and abilities of his station."

"Yeah. We saw that with the Colt. Thanks for saying something about that," Dean said, sarcasm heavy in his tone.

"He had trapped me against my will," Castiel replied in mild tones. "I was not able to warn you of his intent. As for the Colt, it is a weapon imbued with much power. I was not sure if it would equal the power inherent in an angel's sword. Apparently it does not, though there was always a chance that in his weakened state, Lucifer may have been killed with it."

"Weakened state?" Ariadne asked.

"He is not in his true vessel. While he can access many of his powers, they are limited in scope and are in the process of killing the vessel he is currently using. This is why he wishes to have Sam's cooperation." Castiel still had his unperturbed expression, even though Arthur and Ariadne looked at him in horror. Dean and Sam merely looked resigned.

"So we don't have any weapons that can kill him," Arthur asked. "Demon grade bullets and weaponry won't do a damn thing, since they're not as good as the Colt."

"Wait, you have demon grade stuff?" Dean asked, looking over at Arthur. "We'll still need it. He had plenty of demons and hellhounds working for him. That's how Ellen and Jo were killed."

Eames turned to a different page in the grimoire with a sigh. "What do you say, Cassie? A vision spell ought to help the mortals."

"Casting that kind of spell is beyond the scope of my knowledge. And it's forbidden, besides."

"You carved a seal into their very bones, Castiel. That's hardly approved for the rank and file of the army," Eames scoffed. "Besides, I'd do this with Mal, but she's dead."

Castiel glowered at Eames. "Is that certain?"

"Well, as good as for the purposes of this ritual. It requires two."

"So a trickster and an angel can do this kind of magic?" Arthur asked, looking at the grimoire with growing interest. He didn't recognize the symbols on any of the pages, but if it gave them an advantage against Lucifer, he was willing to trust that Eames could.

Castiel merely leveled a gaze at Eames. "He can perform these spells. There are any number of miracles and punishments he was able to mete."

"Flatterer," Eames said with a pleased smile. For some reason, Ariadne could tell that he wasn't actually pleased by Castiel's words. "Then again, there were bigger guns backing me up in the old days. I've been on my own for quite a while now."

"Your entire contingent has been derelict in your duties."

Eames actually leveled a glare at Castiel. "Your condescension, Castiel, is very much _un_ appreciated. You have _no idea_ about the circumstances you're referring to, and the party line is very much wrong about what happened. I have done my duty to the letter and beyond, but would have no part in the idiocy that followed. Since no one would accept a neutral party in the matter, we all saw fit to vacate the premises. That is all."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Arthur asked, looking between the two.

Eames rolled to his feet and shook his head at Arthur. "Ancient history, and nothing relevant to our current interests. I can get things ready for the binding spells for Death and Lucifer. First things first. I'll have to check the grimoire for necessary ingredients for the vision spell." He snatched up the book and turned his back on Castiel while giving Arthur and Ariadne brilliant smiles. "Do pardon me, darlings. Why don't you get acquainted with family?" he asked, though he left without waiting for an answer.

"What was that? I haven't seen him look that pissed off in ages," Ariadne asked, looking around the kitchen with an air of unease. It couldn't bode well to have an angry trickster in their midst.

"He will adhere to the word of his bond," Castiel told her. He looked over at Dean and laid a hand on his arm. "You need rest. You have not slept and your mind grows sluggish. I will assist you if necessary."

"Dude, you really need to work on your timing," Dean replied with a sigh. He finished off the last of his coffee and looked at the Campbells. "Listen. I didn't know about you guys. I don't remember Mom talking about family, really, and Dad never did."

Arthur nodded tightly, prior tension levels ratcheting up a notch. "Campbells seem to be cursed anyway, so I wouldn't blame her for putting distance between us." He gestured stiffly at the chair across from him and Ariadne. "Why don't we get acquainted, then? Make up for lost time, see why pandering to demons was a good idea."

Sam sat down without consulting Dean, jaw clenched. "I don't owe you any explanations."

"You started the apocalypse. Of course you do," Arthur snapped in reply.

Dean nodded slowly and then sat down as well. "All right. Sure. Family reunion from hell, maybe literally. Why the hell not?"

Bobby wheeled himself out and gave Castiel a look that clearly meant for the angel to leave them alone in the kitchen to sort out their differences. Castiel made his way into the backyard as a result, where Eames sat on the ground with the grimoire in his lap. The light of the moon cast blue tinted shadows everywhere, highlighting the deep hollows beneath Eames' eyes. "You have not told them what you are," Castiel said, censure in his tone. "Why is that?"

"I've told them what they need to know. Coyote is who I've been for millennia. The name Camael means nothing in this day and age."

Castiel stood next to Eames. "So what will you do?"

"I will protect them. First, it was because I was ordered to do so. But I do truly like them, so I've put my marks of protection on them." He looked up at Castiel. "Mine are much less invasive than yours, Castiel."

The angel wasn't perturbed by the accusation in the slightest. "It couldn't be obvious. That was the nature of the protection I've placed on them." Castiel paused and tilted his head slightly to contemplate Eames. "Who ordered the protection of the Campbells?"

"I did."

Castiel turned around as Eames sighed. The newcomer in the yard was a man of average height, with dark hair and golden brown eyes. He dressed casually in jeans, a dark shirt and a large olive colored jacket. Castiel looked at the man curiously for a moment. "Gabriel."

"Oh, look who finally figured it out." Gabriel approached, hands in his pockets. "Then again, you weren't a bright one. You followed orders really well, though."

"It is not my place to question," Castiel began in protest. He wasn't about to voice his doubts about the nature of his prior role to Gabriel. He still hadn't worked out what he _did_ believe, or what he truly felt about the Winchester brothers, Dean in particular.

"You're starting to, though. There are doubts. There are fears. There's that nagging feeling that you're missing something important." Gabriel smiled grimly at Castiel's start of surprise. "Yeah. That's called thinking for yourself. Tends to happen after a while," he added with a shrug. "Humans got that part right." He walked closer, looking over at Eames. "Something is wrong. What is it?"

"They tried killing Lucifer yesterday. It didn't work."

Gabriel sighed. "The Colt won't work on Archangels," he told Eames. He came closer and looked at the grimoire in his hands. "Haven't seen that one in a very long time."

"Lucifer has hellhounds. They killed two of the Winchester allies," Castiel told Gabriel. There was an almost accusing note to his voice, as if he blamed the archangel for it.

"Did you really think killing him would be that easy?" Gabriel asked derisively. "He had millennia to plan his escape from the cage, to build up an army willing to sacrifice themselves for his cause, backup vessels…" Gabriel shook his head. "You're a soldier, Castiel, not a general. You wouldn't know how to plan ahead the way you'd need to in order to take him out. As good as Camael is, I wouldn't expect him to destroy Lucifer either."

"Backhanded compliment, that," Eames commented mildly, turning a page in the grimoire.

"Don't be a baby," Gabriel said, rolling his eyes. "Where's your sister? She's more levelheaded than you are most of the time."

"She's gone." Eames' curt tone brought Gabriel's sardonic smile short. "She told her children she had been merely dreaming and left. It's her way," he continued, running his finger along the Enochian script. "She's done it before. Not that you know that, of course. She might return in a few hundred years, but her children will be dust by then. If she even remembers them." He looked up, expression carefully blank. "She followed you here to avoid the war. But she's like Castiel there. She needs orders. She needs purpose. Simply hiding was never enough."

"She had her orders."

Eames shook his head. "Mal needed more than a phrase, more than the thought that this world isn't the one she came from. She can't handle large doses of humanity, Gabriel. She needs to resume her angelic form." His gaze was hollow as he looked back at the grimoire. He continued to use her human name rather than her angelic one, as if that could make it hurt less. "I change shapes and faces. I shift and take on new names and identities. That's how I cope. Mal can't do that, and so she completely fractures apart."

Gabriel seemed somewhat chastened. "I'm sorry, Camael. I didn't know."

"I know. She never told you. She simply disappeared or reappeared when you needed her." He looked up again, a crooked smile on his lips. "She enjoyed destroying Sodom and Gomorrah. It was one of her more creative ways of fulfilling orders, I think. First and foremost, Mal was always an artist."

"You're going to do a vision spell," Gabriel said, pointing to the grimoire rather than apologize again. He frowned when Eames nodded. "Seeing the hellhounds won't give them an advantage if Lucifer sets them on the hunters."

"Those are the heirs and the ones that will create the spares. I don't think he'd willingly destroy them," Eames replied, rolling to his feet smoothly. "But I wouldn't want to take that chance. They should see what they're up against. It will give them a head start, and more of a fighting chance than the Harvelles had."

Gabriel blew out a breath. "Was Castiel going to help you?"

"Yes. Mal is gone, after all."

The archangel nodded. "I'll watch over you and hide the spell signs, then."

Eames nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Gabriel."

"When we go inside, we'll have to plan several avenues of attack. Simply shooting or stabbing Lucifer won't be enough. He's too smart for that."

Eames merely smiled. "Well, if two tricksters, an AWOL angel and five hunters can't come up with something, the world is doomed."

***  
***


	4. Splitting The Party

"Okay," Dean began, blinking rapidly. The salve part of the Enochian spell irritated his eyes something fierce, but he was going to follow directions for once. Castiel said the salve had to remain coating his eyes for ten minutes after the chanting ended. "So, short of calling on an actual hellhound to rip us all to shreds, how can we test if this works?"

"Doubting my skill?" Eames asked archly. "I'm hurt, Dean."

"Dude, seeing is believing."

"Certainly so," he agreed. He looked over at Arthur and Ariadne, who had their hands linked together to help refrain from rubbing at their eyes. Dean had one hand occasionally reaching toward Castiel, the other gripping his thigh tight. Sam merely kept his eyes squeezed shut as he literally sat on his hands. Bobby merely glared at everyone in the room in turns.

Gabriel leaned against the kitchen counter and paged through the grimoire idly. "It wouldn't be necessary to have a hellhound," he said, running his finger over the symbols. He looked up with his trademark smirk. "Well, not one from _hell,_ anyway. I could conjure one up..."

"And would that actually be the same?" Dean asked, disbelief evident.

"It's not like we have much of a choice," Sam countered before Gabriel could speak.

"Tricksters are good at illusions and conjuring," Arthur informed them, voice sharp. "And if they're helping us, it's not in their best interest to fuck us over on this point."

Gabriel pointed to Arthur with an open hand, an expectant look on his face. "See? See? At least one of you mortals has sense."

Eames looked up from the design he was painting on the kitchen floor in chocolate syrup. "And let it be known that said mortal is mine."

"Eames..." Arthur began in a warning smile. Eames easily dodged Ariadne's booted kick as she snapped "No, he's _mine."_

"Ah, ah, ah…" Eames taunted, wagging a finger on them. "We're not quite done yet. Keep the violence to a minimum, yes?"

"Ass," Arthur growled.

"Tricksters and angels are both dicks," Dean declared, making Gabriel snort in amusement. "I notice you don't deny that," he said, looking over at Gabriel. Five more minutes, then the last of the spell could be laid and he could rub at his eyes. He might have grabbed Castiel's sleeve to distract himself, but the angel didn't mind it in the least.

"What? It's true. Present company excepted, of course," Gabriel replied. He flipped through another few pages of the book. "Imagine conforming to the same exact rules for millennia, never getting confirmation you're doing a good job, never getting a vacation, no breaks for your sanity. Is it any wonder angels are a dour bunch?"

"Is that why you went AWOL?" Ariadne asked, looking over at Gabriel.

"I had my reasons," he replied. "It wasn't the only one."

"Don't fallen angels become demons?" she asked him.

"When Anna ripped out her grace, she became human," Sam told Ariadne. "So it depends how they fall."

"Demons were human once," Dean said abruptly. "Ruby told me that," he explained when Sam shot him an incredulous look. "She was a witch, then became a lying ho-bag demon."

"So comforted by that piece of information," Ariadne said dryly.

Gabriel shut the grimoire with a snap as Eames finished the design on the kitchen floor. The hunters all jerked in their seats, but he didn't seem amused in the slightest. "I'll summon a test subject. I'll be able to contain it," he added sourly when Eames shot him an alarmed look. "One of Iaoel's best tricks."

Eames' hands tightened into fists and his jaw clenched as he stared at Gabriel silently. He jerked when Ariadne touched his shoulder in concern, then forcibly calmed himself and flashed Arthur a patently false smile. "Let's begin."

It was as if Gabriel ripped apart time and space, creating a fissure in the air in front of him. He reached through it and after a moment pulled his hand back. In his fist was a snarling puppy with long, curling fangs and paws that ended in razor sharp claws. Dean recoiled in recognition, and all of the others looked at him. "Fuck," he whispered, eyes wide as he saw the writhing creature caught in Gabriel's fist. "I can see that. In colors, even."

Nodding as though that was what he expected, Gabriel thrust the puppy back through the shimmering fissure and then sealed it shut with a flick of his wrist. "Vision spell works just fine, then. You can take the salve off now. It's set."

"What's the chocolate on the floor for, then?" Bobby demanded, rubbing at his eyes.

"Protection spell," Eames replied. "Different one," he told Ariadne and Arthur when they opened their mouths. "And a very different one than what _he_ used," he told Sam and Dean with a nod at Castiel. The angel shrugged when the Winchester brothers looked to him in silent question at what Eames meant. "Not a fan of bone carving, personally. Far too messy."

"I rather thought it was neater this way," Castiel replied. "It's not as visible to outsiders."

"You protected yours from angels, I protected mine from the old gods," Eames said, though he was getting visibly irritated. "Neither of you are thinking past locking Lucifer back in the cage or killing him, are you? Should the mortals survive, it would be best if the next generation was hidden from both sides." He leveled a steady glare at Castiel and Gabriel. "Anything else you wanted to say, _angel?"_

Castiel looked at Eames with his usual mild expression. "As you've said, I'm a soldier."

"What's at stake in this pissing contest?" Dean asked.

"Nothing important," Gabriel said, dropping the grimoire loudly in the center of the enlarged kitchen table. "Let the big kids worry about that shit, boys." He turned and quirked a smile at Ariadne. "Girl."

"Glad your eyes work," she answered dryly. "I was starting to wonder."

"Oooh, play nice," he teased. Gabriel flicked a glance at Eames, then looked at Castiel. "That's taken care of, so you need to start tracking down Famine and Pestilence. We're going to need those rings, just in case. I'd rather have a backup plan for this."

"You don't think we can kill him, do you?" Arthur asked, no inflection in his tone.

"I'd rather be prepared for anything. Lucifer is old and had millennia to plan his escape. He can afford to take the long view. You don't have as long to wait."

"What weapons do we have that will kill him, then?" Arthur pressed. "The Colt didn't work, we don't have an Angel Sword."

"I'm working on it," Gabriel replied as Eames started a low hum deep in his throat. With a sigh, he looked at Castiel. "Take counterpoint, will you? It's a spell that works best with two."

"Why won't you help?" Castiel asked.

"Places to go, people to trick," Gabriel replied flippantly. Before anyone could say anything else, he snapped his fingers and simply vanished.

"Angels are such dicks," Dean muttered.

"Indeed," Castiel answered with a mild shake of his head. "We will complete the ritual, then you are all off to bed. You need rest."

Bobby let them all stay in guest rooms in his house. Ariadne crawled in beside Arthur, and neither undressed. Ariadne curled up around Arthur, stroking his lower abdomen absently as her eyes closed. He kissed the top of her head and chuckled. "Not that tired, then?"

Ariadne laughed softly. "You know I find this soothing."

"Uh huh," Arthur teased, stroking her arm. She pressed her lips against his clothed chest as he laughed. "Probably not a good idea. You're not usually that quiet."

She reached into his pants and firmly grasped his cock. She let out a satisfied sound when it jerked expectantly against her palm. "I could probably still get you off."

"Ariadne, you can _always_ get me off. No contest."

Stroking him gently, she stretched up to kiss his mouth. Arthur pulled her up so that he could slide his hands beneath her shirt. They could touch all the right places that led to sighs and wordless cries of passion. Mindful that the walls could be thin, Ariadne kept her touch furtive and her moans soft and breathy. It didn't take long for them to strip off their clothing so he could slide inside her. Pinning her down with his large hands, Arthur moved in long, steady strokes. She smiled as she bit her lower lip, silencing herself as best as she could. She brought her legs up around his waist, letting him plunge deeply into her. It felt good, but the best part was the intensity in his gaze. In his eyes were all the things he could never say aloud.

It didn't take long for Arthur to come and collapse on top of her. "Sorry," he murmured. "You didn't come."

"Then next time you owe me two," Ariadne giggled. He grinned and shifted his weight so that it was more comfortable for her. They whispered their I love yous and good nights. When Arthur was deeply asleep, worry lines eased from his forehead. She held him tightly and kissed him. He pulled her closer in his sleep, curling around her. Wrapping her arms around him, she allowed herself to fall asleep as well.

***

Gabriel poured himself a glass of orange juice as the hunters stumbled into the kitchen to begin making something for breakfast. "Well, kids. Who do we snag first? Famine or Pestilence? I for one would rather run down Famine. Pestilence is a piece of work."

"Dude, way too early to make decisions affecting the end of the world," Dean mumbled, setting up the coffee pot.

"If we're going after Famine, we definitely want to eat first," Arthur added, running a hand through his hair. He had brushed it back and added a little pomade to get the bangs out of his eyes, but hadn't been able to change or shower yet.

"Well, see, that's the thing," Gabriel began. "It doesn't exactly work that way."

"And then will come Famine, riding on a black steed," Castiel began somberly. "He will ride into the land of plenty. And great will be the Horseman's hunger for he is hunger. His hunger will seep out and poison the air."

"Isn't that cheerful?" Dean snarked as he started the coffee. "So he actually makes you hungry?"

"He amplifies the hungers of the soul," Gabriel answered, putting his glass aside. "Famine knows what you want most, just like this." He put his hand out, hovering just in front of Sam's chest. "And then with his ring, amplifies the thing you crave until you succumb."

Sam blinked and looked from Gabriel's hand to his face. "And then what?"

"Well," Gabriel began, withdrawing his hand and then taking a sip of orange juice. "I've never been around for the rest of it."

"If that's Famine, what's the deal with Pestilence?" Ariadne asked, smothering a yawn.

"Pestilence is the creator of the Croatoan Virus," Gabriel told her. He passed over the carton of orange juice when she reached for it. "Obviously one of his plans would be to spread the virus, exterminating humans."

"So he's helping Lucifer," Sam said. "We'll need to stop him first."

"You come near him, you get sick. Odds are good that you'll never reach him. Famine, on the other hand, is a little easier of a target."

"For a relative value of easy," Eames intoned from the doorway, startling the hunters. He nodded in greeting at Arthur and Ariadne. He was slouching, his arms crossed over his chest in an almost obstinate manner. "Truly easy would be to let the mortals sit here while we get the rings."

Gabriel gave Eames a sour look. "Divine intervention, _Eames?_ So two thousand years ago, isn't it?"

"Then we'll flip a coin," Ariadne declared abruptly, cutting off whatever Eames' scathing reply would have been. "Arthur and I do that if there are two places to check out. So heads it's Famine, tails Pestilence."

"That's leaving it up to fate," Gabriel said with a significant look at the Winchester brothers.

"Nope. It's called shutting everyone up," Ariadne said sweetly as Sam dug into his pocket for change. Eames let out startled laughter, though Castiel and Gabriel glowered at her.

"Tails," Sam called out.

Arthur gave Ariadne a concerned look, though she missed it as she drank her orange juice. He obviously didn't want her anywhere near Pestilence, but it was just as obvious that she wouldn't want to be left behind.

She was startled when Eames slammed the grimoire onto the table out of nowhere. "Ariadne, darling, I request your assistance." He held up a hand to forestall her protest. "I do value your skill with languages, which is even better than Arthur's." Eames shot Arthur an insouciant grin, startling him further. "Yes, you can speak Apsalooke. Impressive. But she knows five languages and we'll need that."

"What are you talking about?" Ariadne asked, frowning at the trickster.

"This grimoire must remain in this house. It's hidden here, but the moment it leaves this building it will be sensed by hundreds of demons that have been searching for it for years. The lot of you will still need the spells in it, so we need someone to memorize this book and learn the Enochian language," Eames told her.

"That is not—" Castiel began.

"What the hell are you doing?" Gabriel hissed.

Eames said something in a flowing tongue that no one in the room but the angels seemed to understand. His tone was fierce and almost angry, and it took Gabriel back a half step. Castiel still had that perturbed expression on his face. "I will not leave them vulnerable," Eames concluded in English.

"All right. The rest of us will go hunt down Pestilence while you learn whatever that is to watch our backs," Dean declared as the coffee pot beeped. "We don't have weapons to kill Lucifer, so those spells are probably the only real chance we've got." He grinned when Ariadne gulped and looked at him with wide eyes. "No pressure, cuz."

Arthur looked as though he couldn't decide whether to be grateful to Eames' intervention or angry enough to hit him. That was his general feeling around him, so the unsettled feeling in his gut actually was almost comforting. "Whatever we got from Yusuf might at least slow him down enough to let you do those spells."

"Then it's decided. We'll all get to work after a hearty morning meal," Eames declared, patting the grimoire on the table. He ignored the heavy glances Castiel and Gabriel tried to give him, leaning back in his chair.

Breakfast was tense, though the hunters were all used to ignoring strain in order to get the overall job done. Arthur, Bobby and Sam put their searching skills to the test; between the three of them, they found a pattern of freak outbreaks, illnesses that rapidly progressed, antibiotic resistances and infection despite sterile surgical protocols. They centered around a nursing home, and by lunchtime the group was ready to depart.

Arthur gathered Ariadne into his arms and kissed her thoroughly. "I _am_ coming back to you, Ariadne," he promised, jaw tight and eyes fixed on hers. The intensity there had been frightening the first time she had seen it – _We're not prepared for this... There's no way we could have predicted this... I'm sorry, I should have done my research..._ – but by now it was comforting. He kept his promises. Arthur moved heaven and earth if he had to, but he kept his promises to the best of his ability.

He would come back to her, even if it was as a ghost.

Eames had blank paper, pens and the grimoire open to the first page in the kitchen. He was serious about teaching her about the Enochian spells. Ariadne waited until she was seated beside him at the table. "You're really worried about us," she said, brows furrowed. "Is it really as dangerous as you think it is?"

"I know it is," Eames said softly. "We're messing about with demons and the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, Ariadne. They won't look kindly on that sort of thing. Less so if they discover we plan to lock Lucifer back in his cage."

Shaking her head, Ariadne sighed. "I should be out there, same as the others..."

Eames moved swiftly, holding her tightly when she rose. "Ariadne, I need you here." He had one large hand fanned out along her torso, his wrist nestled beneath a breast. His other hand was spread across her belly. Ariadne was half turning to look at him with a frown at the overly handsy way he was holding her. Eames chuckled softly, a surprised kind of laughter. "Oh, love, you have no idea how much Arthur needs to protect you."

His voice was warm and most against her ear, and Ariadne could feel her breath quicken in response. "What are you doing?"

"Protection for the both of you, the only way I know how," he said softly. "Arthur wouldn't be able to concentrate or truly assist in getting to Pestilence. He would be too busy worrying about you, and you would worry about him. Not to mention how you would be a much more tempting target for Pestilence." His voice was like a caress, and Ariadne had to struggle to hold herself still in his arms and not lean into his touch. "I'm doing the best I can by both of you. I can't let any harm come to you, especially now."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, alarmed that there was a slight whine in her voice. It was taking everything in her not to tremble or turn around and kiss him.

"My protection only extends to you, after all," Eames continued in a slow voice, an edge of frustration in it. "And Arthur is protected. There are those that would seek to break it, but for now, you're both as safe as I can make you. There are powers out there, incredible powers that eclipse mine, and I would not see either of you harmed if I can help it." Eames blew out a breath and Ariadne shivered in his arms. She could feel the muscular chest at her back, the strength in his arms. He had been in a spindly form the last time she had seen him. This body was diametrically opposite to the last one, and she licked her lips nervously. It didn't make sense why she was responding to him this way, but she steeled herself against it. Maybe this was why Arthur didn't trust himself around Eames.

At that thought, Ariadne pulled away from his grasp and whirled around to face him. Her chest was heaving with the effort to contain herself, and her blood was singing in her veins, begging for release. "What are you doing to me?"

Eames frowned and appeared genuinely confused by her statement. "What are you talking about? I've only sketched a protection on you, Ariadne. I swear I haven't changed you in any way." He looked at her in concern, at the shaky breaths she was taking. "Are you that worried about Arthur? He's a known entity to them, darling. He knows what he's doing, since he's been raised as a hunter from birth."

"You don't know what you're doing, do you?" Ariadne asked with a shaky voice, amazed. "You can't feel this?"

Eames blinked in surprise and then _looked_ at her. His face went ashen and he backed up a step, crashing into the kitchen counter. "I didn't mean for that, Ariadne, you have to believe me," he said, a desperate edge to his voice. "I never meant for that, never."

"What did you do?"

"It's not anything I did," he protested, shaking his head. "It's more of what I didn't do..." He trailed off and clamped his lips shut, as if he admitted too much.

"Jesus Christ. You love me."

"Of course I do," Eames replied in a haughty tone. "Why else would I protect a mortal?"

She saw the way his knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the counter, the tension in his shoulders. He was trying to pull the tattered remains of his indifferent persona around him, but for a moment she had seen an expression on his face that had mirrored Arthur's. "No. Not just love. You're _in love_ with me."

"Ariadne, don't be ridiculous."

"The time you came to Arthur looking like me," she said, voice shaking slightly. "This is what happened to him, isn't it? Why he couldn't control himself? He was always so careful with me, never wanting to cross the line. He might never have crossed it if not for that night." Eames looked away from her, unable to meet her eyes. "Oh, dear god. You're in love with him, too. You weren't fucking with him for kicks. You actually love him, too."

"We need to drop this line of conversation," Eames said tightly, still unable to meet her eyes. "You need to learn Enochian fast in order to trap Lucifer."

With shaky legs, Ariadne walked forward and pressed herself against Eames. He blew out a breath and looked everywhere but at her face. "You love us. That's why you're protecting us. Not out of guilt or obligation, but because you love us." Her voice was soft, and she laid a hand over his heart. "You _feel._ That's why it hurts you when Arthur can't trust you. That's why you tried so hard to make it up to him."

"You need to sit down _now,"_ Eames told her firmly, bringing his hands to her shoulders. "There are spells we will need to use to slow down demons and angels alike, dispel them from areas and bind Lucifer long enough to lock him away again."

"And all of it is blood magic," Ariadne said, managing not to shiver. He was warm in her arms, and she could feel the concern bleeding from him.

"Do you know why it works that way?" he asked softly. She shook her head. "It carries life and intent. All the vampire stories say that blood is the life, but it's not just vampires. A lot of creatures in the dark know the truth of it. Blood carries the essence of life, fragments of a soul. There is power there, power that can be channeled by strength of will." Eames brushed her hair away from the side of her cheek gently, a sad light in his eyes. "There is also power in your bloodline. Arthur is a Campbell. Distantly, you're a Winchester. Your children will carry the gifts and strengths of both. And perhaps it's a dual line that's cursed, given the fate of the current Winchesters." His hands dropped to her shoulders, purely platonic even if she knew he wanted more than that. "I will protect your children as well, you understand. I would teach them what they need to know, so you needn't worry about them."

Ariadne leaned in and quietly dropped a kiss onto his chin. She was suddenly sorry that he was alone in the world and they didn't love him the same way. She had always liked him, in an absent sort of way, the way people can love something dangerous but still not trust it. "Thank you for protecting us, Eames."

"Yes, well... Hardly worth the thanks if demons get you. Go on, sit and stop being so foolish."

She could almost see his rapid pulse in his throat. Staying this close to him was a cruel kind of torture, and she backed away slowly. He breathed easier when she was just beyond arm's length, but the knowledge of his true motivations hung between them. There was no way to unsay it, to remove that knowledge from her mind. She wouldn't want to remove it anyway. This made him more approachable. Almost human, in a way. She could understand frustration and love and desire, but couldn't understand a godly game of chess with mortals as the chess pieces. Or rather, she didn't _want_ to understand that kind of game.

Willing her heartbeat to slow down, Ariadne sat on one of the chairs. Eames sat beside her, almost stiffly at first. When it became clear that Ariadne wasn't about to remark on his emotional state again, he unwound slightly.

Enochian was much harder for her to learn than Latin or Old English, but it had its own internal logical sense that she was able to pick up on after a while. Reading the writing was much easier than speaking the words, as it was very fluid and melodic. That had been the reason why it had sounded as though Eames had been singing before; Ariadne had to wonder how much of his prior songs or nonsense rhymes had actually been Enochian and not some kind of gibberish made up language. Ariadne couldn't sing on key very well, so she was at a disadvantage in learning spoken Enochian. 

"I love you," she said in Enochian, practicing the conjugation. Eames froze beside her, pen clenched in a white knuckled grip. For a moment she nearly asked what was wrong with him, but then she realized what verb she was using to learn the grammar. "Oh, Eames, I... I'm sorry, I don't mean to hurt you..."

"You are never intentionally cruel," Eames said, staring at the paper in front of them. "But that doesn't mean that sometimes you can't disembowel a man with your words."

Ariadne clutched at his sleeve. "I'm sorry."

He turned and looked at her miserable expression. Whatever he saw there made him forcibly smooth his expression into one of perfect blankness. He stood abruptly, his chair falling to the floor behind him. "You need a break anyway." Before she could protest, the pen tumbled from his fingers and he simply vanished.

Ariadne had to push away the feeling that she had made a terrible mistake in pushing Eames the way she had. She could only hope that she hadn't earned his hatred in the process.

***  
***


	5. Hunting In Concert

The Serenity Valley Convalescent Home in Davenport, Iowa was a stately looking place, with a single car in the parking lot. It was a green 1972 AMC Hornet Wagon with personalized Nevada plates reading SIKN TRD. "Sick and tired," Gabriel explained when he pointed it out. "So we know he's still here."

"Let's do this," Arthur said. He had his Glock at his hip and within easy reach, in case he had to do a fast draw. It was loaded with Yusuf's silver bullets inscribed with Latin phrases; they wouldn't do anything to a horseman, but it would cause a demon or other supernatural creature considerable pain. If he was really lucky, whatever he shot would stay down.

Dean didn't bother with the appearance of being a visitor. He just drew his own pistol and strode through the front door. Rolling his eyes, Sam followed.

The halls were quiet. While that was to be expected in a nursing home, there seemed to be an almost sinister quality to the silence. They found a tall Caucasian man with splashes of slime on his suit standing at the opposite end of the rec room, looking out of the window. "So you're the ones that think you can actually stop Lucifer," he said, finally turning to look at the assemblage. He had a smirk on his face. "Fools."

"I guess this is going down the hard way."

Pestilence's smirk was still firmly in place at Arthur's words. "Did you really think that it was going to happen any other way?"

"A man can hope," Dean replied flippantly.

There was the sound of something rustling behind them, and Arthur could see the nursing staff approaching, as well as some of the residents. Most of the nursing staff had black eyes, and the residents were covered in weeping pustules. "Guys..." he began in warning.

Pestilence simply laughed. "It's been quite a while since we've had the plague. I rather enjoyed that one. I miss those times." His grin was almost manic. "The Crotoan virus will be fun to play with. Initial estimates pin the death rate at 90%, but I'm sure we can do so much better."

"Lucifer would want _some_ humans still left alive," Sam told him.

"Namely us," Dean added. Sam shot him a look; it was Sam that was the true vessel, and he was sure that Lucifer couldn't care less if Michael got his true vessel or not.

"He's not here, is he?" Pestilence sneered, extending his arms outward. "If he wants you so much, he can resurrect you himself."

Arthur spun around, Glock in hand. The demon nurses were too close for his liking, and he started shooting at them, aiming for kneecaps. The nurses were possessed, and he didn't want to kill them if he didn't have to. The elderly residents made awful moaning sounds, as if breathing was painful. He could feel soreness in his neck and armpits but ignored it in favor of continuing to shoot at the demons. "Whatever you're planning on doing, do it quick, will you?"

But Sam was coughing hard enough to fall to his hands and knees. Dean was staggering forward, gun in hand, Castiel barely able to keep him upright. Pestilence was starting to laugh, and Arthur had the distinct impression that his neck was swelling and would explode. He braced himself against the door frame when he started swaying, shooting until the magazine clicked empty. Most of the demons were down for the count, not moving. The host bodies were still breathing, at least, and the shooting had driven away the residents. Arthur dropped the empty magazine and pushed a new one in as he turned to face Pestilence. The man was laughing at Dean's pathetic attempts to continue walking, Castiel's expression one of grim determination as they moved forward inch by tortured inch.

"All right," Gabriel said in a bored tone after Arthur's silver bullets did absolutely nothing to Pestilence. "I'm bored now, and we have other places to be."

With a lazy wave of his hand, Gabriel froze Pestilence in place. Dean managed to stagger forward and cut the ring off of his finger. The horseman roared with pain and anger, but the symptoms of the illnesses were suddenly lessened. Dean didn't need to lean on Castiel so much, Sam stopped coughing and Arthur stopped feeling so dizzy.

"You can't do this to me," Pestilence snarled at Gabriel. "You're nothing."

Gabriel heaved a sigh. "You're really not inspired, are you? No imagination at all. You didn't used to be such a stick in the mud. I thought you'd at least be entertaining tonight." He tapped Pestilence's cheek roughly. "Better luck next time."

"You won't be able to lock him away, whoever you are. Lucifer has _plans."_

"So do we, bitch," Dean replied tightly. He punched Pestilence in the solar plexus, making him double over in pain.

Without further incident, they left the nursing home.

***

"I think I have a lead on Famine," Bobby told Dean over the phone when he was reporting that they had Pestilence's ring. "Did you want to take care of that tonight?"

Dean looked over the others. They stared back at him, not looking tired or disturbed in the slightest; he supposed having an angel and archangel could do that, even if the angel in question was cut off from his heavenly powers. "Yeah, I think we can do this."

Bobby gave him the rough coordinates to head to, and Sam pulled out a map. "It'll be too far to drive," he commented.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Really, Sam? Sometimes I wonder about that keen mind you supposedly have."

"You're going to teleport us all there?" Sam asked, skeptical.

Gabriel snapped his fingers and they were all in a different town. "Let's just say I wasn't looking forward to another road trip with you boys."

"We could have done this to begin with, then," Sam said, hackles rising.

"I didn't realize driving with you boys would be so tedious." Gabriel brushed invisible lint off of his sleeve and gave a nod of approval at Arthur, who had remained silent the entire time. "So we're here now. Let's go find Famine. Though boys... try to control your appetites."

"And then will come Famine, riding on a black steed," Castiel began, looking around. "He will ride into the land of plenty. And great will be the Horseman's hunger for he is hunger. His hunger will seep out and poison the air."

"Thanks for that little ball of sunshine," Dean commented, patting Castiel's arm. "We got the creepy-ass message the first time you quoted that at us. Let's go find this guy."

"Did Bobby say where the signs pointed to?" Arthur asked. It didn't seem to be that small a town, more like a small city.

"Nope. Just that it was here."

"We should split up," Arthur suggested. "We'd cover more ground that way. Then once Famine is found, we can call in the others."

"Oh, sure, split the party..." Dean began, shaking his head. "Fine, fine. Whatever. That'll work, but be careful. I'm sure this Horseman will trick the hell out of us."

Gabriel looked around the city with a sigh. "Yeah. Be careful, will you? No point in all of this if Famine manages to kill you. I can't always be saving your collective asses." He shoved his hands into his pockets and managed to look both excited and bored at once. "I think I'll take a walk, look around."

The Winchesters rolled their eyes at him and Arthur was a little confused. He had only met Gabriel recently, and the inconsistent behavior bothered him. He thought of Ariadne, how steadfast she was and always would be. _Incorruptible._ She was his rock, and he wanted her so much that he ached for her. He wanted to curl up in bed with her, sheets tangled around them, skin slicked with sweat and breaths coming in short gasps after an amazing orgasm. He needed to see her tender smile, knowing that she would always be there. She made the itinerant lifestyle worthwhile.

Damn. If he wasn't careful, he'd have to find a quiet place to jerk off before he could concentrate again. "Gabriel's got a point, at least. I'll call you the moment I find anything." Arthur ran a hand through his hair and picked a direction to start looking for clues to finding Famine.

Sam and Dean split up as well, though Castiel wound up trailing after Dean. Sam found himself wondering if it would have been easier to attack Pestilence if he had been stronger, if he had powers again. It had been simple enough once Gabriel had frozen him in place, after all. If he had his powers, none of them would have gotten ill. He was a hunter, after all. He had to be prepared for anything, and he wasn't. After disappointing Dean so many times already, he owed it to his brother to get his act together. If he practiced taking the demon blood in small doses, this time he could get it right and not be addicted. Moderation was the key. A gulp a day kept the Horsemen away, right? Right.

He froze when he saw movement near a motel. Coming closer, he saw the flash of black eyes before the demon headed inside one of the rooms. Sam followed without a second thought, cell phone still in his pocket.

Castiel split off from Dean after a few blocks. He had slung an arm around Dean's shoulders before that, almost hurt when Dean shot him an inscrutable look. "This is a nice enough little city," he told Dean. "Full of families and places to stay. Good place for children. There are events on weekends in spring and summer, parks and such things for the families to go to, good schools." He gave Dean an encouraging smile.

"Yeah," Dean said, voice tinged with disbelief. "You're talking about having a BBQ and the whole American pie thing, right? Well, not the pie fucking thing, the American dream thing," he clarified after a moment.

"Yes, I am." Castiel paused. "Isn't that a good goal to have? This is why you fight Lucifer and the demons. This is why you battle the creatures of the dark, isn't it? So that others can have their safety on weekends, eating barbecued steaks or hamburgers..." His voice trailed off at Dean's odd expression. "Hamburgers. They are tasty, you said."

"I said a lot of things, Cas," Dean replied, eyes narrowing slightly. "What the hell's gotten into you? What's with all the down home family time talk?"

"Perhaps I should see where those families are," Castiel offered. "There are few of them on the streets at this time."

And now that Castiel pointed it out, Dean could see that it was true. "Okay. Valid point. All the domestication talk was a little weird."

"Duly noted," Castiel said. "I will search for where others might be."

He started walking in a different direction. Dean shook his head and scrubbed at his jaw tiredly. As far as he was concerned, everyone was being even more weird than usual. It was a good thing he was still himself through all this Horseman and Lucifer nonsense.

He could smell the stench of death before he found the bodies. Demons stood over the corpses with a briefcase in hand. That was new, so instead of charging ahead with an exorcism rite in hand, Dean crept closer to observe. The demons extracted something from the bloodied corpses, then started heading toward a Biggerson's restaurant. By the brisk walk, he could guess that someone important was there. He was willing to bet it was Famine, though he didn't know what the briefcase had to do with anything.

Making sure the demons didn't see him, Dean started to follow. He dialed Sam first, and could barely understand Sam's garbled words. "Just get to the Biggerson's," Dean said. "Something big is going down."

There was a gulp that sounded like a swallow. The prior incomprehensibility made sense, and Sam confirmed he would be there. Arthur was panting as if he had just run a few blocks at his fastest sprint, but he agreed that the Biggerson's sounded like the place to start looking for Famine in the city. There was no way to call Castiel or Gabriel, but Dean didn't much care about that. Three hunters should be able to get the job done.

Arthur showed up first, jogging up to Dean's hiding place. He was flushed and looking distracted but otherwise seemed fine. Sam, on the other hand, definitely didn't seem fine. Dean could see the smear of blood on his lips and a splash of it on his jacket, as if he had been in such a rush to drink it that he hadn't cared about the mess. "What the hell, Sammy?" Dean roared. He wanted to throttle his brother.

"I'm stronger now," Sam replied, voice hard. "I'll be able to hurt this one, and you won't have to worry about getting hurt."

"There is something so inherently wrong with that statement..." Dean began, but Sam was already heading toward Biggerson's. "Damn it, Sam..."

Arthur looked distressed and shifted uncomfortably in his crouch behind a car. "Come on, then. He can't do it alone." He looked a little uncomfortable as he stood, but Dean was already heading toward the restaurant.

Inside was an old man in a black suit, a nasal cannula and tubing from an oxygen tank taped to his face. He sat at a table, oblivious to the corpses on the floor. Two demons were attending to him, no effort whatsoever in making their eyes appear normal. Castiel was in a booth, a heaping tray of raw meat in front of him. The angel gave Dean a helpless shrug as he ate. "I like the hamburgers better. They made me very happy."

"Dude," Dean replied, eying him in concern. "How many did you eat?"

Castile swallowed the mouthful of raw meat. "It's in the low hundreds." He grimaced and put a hand over his stomach. "Is that too much?"

"We'll discuss that later," Dean told him as Arthur crashed into the wall, pale and sweaty. "What the hell is the matter with you?" he asked his cousin, who was half turned away from him. Arthur looked like he wanted to grind his hips against the back of a chair.

Sam was standing in front of Famine during the exchange, simply staring at him. The Horseman smiled at him. "Did you like the snack I sent you?" he asked in a conspiratorial tone. "Lucifer sent them to take care of me. All those modern farming techniques make it harder for me to feed, harder to gather strength. But _hunger..._ That is still universal, even in America, where food is plentiful. Consume, consume. The hunger isn't just from the body, it comes from the soul as well. And souls are souls, no matter how I get them."

Dean walked up beside Sam. "Funny, I don't seem to be affected all."

Famine turned his aged visage toward Dean. "Yes. I noticed that. Have you wondered why that is? How you could even walk in my presence?" 

Dean shrugged as Sam eyed the demons circling them warily. "Well, I like to think it's because of my strength of character."

Famine shook his head. "I disagree." Famine touched the center of his chest, and Dean stared at the Horseman. "That's one deep, dark nothing you got there, Dean. Can't fill it, can you? Not with food or drink. Not even with sex."

"You're so full of crap."

The sly smile Famine shot Dean made his skin crawl in recognition. "Oh, you can smirk and joke and lie to your brother, lie to yourself, but not to me!" There was delight in Famine's eyes, and Dean struggled to keep still and not simply throttle the old man. "I can see how broken you are, how defeated. You can't win, and you know it. You're not hungry, Dean, because inside, you're already dead."

"Leave him alone," Sam intoned, eyes flashing with anger at Famine.

The Horseman seemed delighted at the tone he was taking. "You're not like everyone else. You'll never die from drinking too much. You're the exception that proves the rule. Just the way Satan wanted you to be."

Sam turned toward the demons circling them and shook his head. "No." He held out a hand and black smoke poured from their mouths, heading toward the floor. "I don't want them."

"Then I'll take them," Famine said, reaching out to consume the demon souls. Sam reached out toward Famine as he swallowed down the souls. The Horseman laughed. "Your powers won't work on me, Sam. It's useless to fight it."

"I can't affect you, but I can affect _them."_ Sam's voice was grim and he began to concentrate, pulling the demonic souls out of Famine. The Horseman began to scream, then suddenly the souls exploded out of him. Blood was running from Sam's nose as the demonic souls were exorcised, and Famine slumped forward, eyes glassy.

Arthur pushed away from his crouched position, red-faced and sweaty. Castiel stood and pushed the tray of meat away, frowning at the Winchesters. It didn't take any effort to get Famine's ring now, and Dean looked at Sam with a stony expression.

The door to the restaurant banged open and Gabriel walked in with a Mountain Dew in hand. "Oh, hey. Did I miss anything?"

He easily ducked the knife that Dean threw at him.

***

Bundled in Bobby's panic room, Sam was screaming to be let out. Dean walked out of the house, not able to listen to whatever Castiel was trying to say. Arthur let him go, walking up to Ariadne and gathering her up into his arms. "See? I'm back, just like I promised," he murmured into her hair. "I was thinking of you."

Ariadne smiled. "Flatterer," she teased, holding him tightly.

Gabriel entered the kitchen with a frown on his face and a moment later returned to Arthur and Ariadne's side. "Where's Eames?"

"He left," Ariadne murmured, pulling back slightly. "I upset him, and he vanished. I've been going over my notes since then and trying to work on the script."

"I've noticed. It's a good written Enochian," he told her with a nod. "How's your spoken skill?"

"Working on it?" she asked, making a face.

Lips compressed tightly in unhappiness, Gabriel leveled her with a stare. After a moment, he asked her "Where is Camael?" in Enochian.

Ariadne frowned as she replied "Who is Camael?" in Enochian. "I don't know what you mean."

"You have an accent," Gabriel declared. "It can't be helped, but it will work for the spells. Keep working at it, and I'll go look for our trickster friend."

"If you see him," Ariadne began, hesitantly reaching out to grab Gabriel's sleeve before he left the house. "Please tell him I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt him."

Gabriel's eyebrows rose alarmingly high. "There's definitely a story there."

"It's not mine to tell," she insisted. She had every intention of telling Arthur what happened, but she wasn't about to tell the archangel when he wasn't even involved.

"Huh. I'll keep it in mind if I find him. He managed to keep himself hidden from me for a few centuries, so don't hold your breath."

He vanished as well, and Ariadne held onto Arthur tightly, regret heavy in her heart. "You're telling me, right?" Arthur asked. She nodded, face still pressed against his chest. "Okay. Let's go to our room upstairs. It'll give us a little privacy."

"And I can try the privacy spell, too. So _no one_ can listen."

Arthur managed to get a bit of a leer into his smile at her. "Useful."

That got her to laugh a little before they went into the room Bobby was letting them use. She sang the spell, eyes closed to better remember the cadence of it. Ariadne could feel the pull of the magic beneath her skin, then the entire thing snapping into place once she was done. She staggered a bit, feeling dizzy. Arthur had his arms around her in an instant, steadying her. "I've got you," he murmured, voice low and intimate. "I've got you, you're okay."

Ariadne smiled up at him. "I know." She put her hand over his heart in a possessive gesture.

"So what is it that got Eames so upset today? I don't think we've ever done anything to get him angry. Usually it's the other way around."

Ariadne sighed and pulled away to sit on the bed. Concerned, Arthur sat beside her. "I did a lot of reading after talking with Eames," she began slowly. "I didn't mean to upset him, but you know how I can get with the talking before I think. He..."

Arthur caught the hesitancy and assumed the worst. "What? Did he mess with you?"

She shook her head and gave him a faint, pained smile. "He's in love with us, Arthur. That's why he came to you looking like me years ago. That's why he's protecting us. It's not because he feels guilty about things he's done. He's done all those things because he loves us."

Brows knit into an almost thunderous expression, Arthur shook his head. "That's absurd. He's just yanking your chain."

"You didn't see him, Arthur," Ariadne protested. "It shook him up that I could guess that. He didn't want me to know. He's in love with _both_ of us. That's why he's helping us. That's why he calls us his, don't you get it? That's why he calls us his family."

Arthur shook his head, not wanting to believe that was true. "It doesn't have to mean that."

"Doesn't it?" He blew out a breath and stood up to pace. Ariadne watched him, knowing he needed the movement to help him think. "I wanted you to know, because you're always so angry with him."

"I can't trust him. When he's bored with us, where will we be? Huh? When he withdraws that protection of his, how many creatures are going to be on our backs ready to kill us? I can't trust him. I _can't."_

Ariadne couldn't disagree with his logic. There was too much bad blood in the past and too much suspicion on Arthur's part. "What did he say to you, when he looked like me? You never talk about it."

"It wasn't you, it doesn't matter."

Ariadne had always let it slide before, but now she pressed him. "What did he say?"

"I thought it was you, but it wasn't," Arthur protested. "It doesn't matter. He was just fucking with me."

"What did she say?" Ariadne demanded. "Tell me. I need to know."

"You... I thought it was you. He said that he was scared to screw it up, to change how things were, but he wanted me." Arthur shook his head and paced the length of the room again. "He was fucking with me."

"I think he was being as honest as he knew how to be," Ariadne whispered, suddenly sure that it was absolutely true. "Because that was what I felt at the time, too. I didn't want to screw things up and I didn't want it to change how we were with each other. I still want you that badly," she said with a crooked smile. "And I'm still sometimes waiting for that horrible thing to happen that you're so scared of. But it hasn't happened yet. I think he took my words as his own because he knew you'd never believe him if he told you himself."

"That's ridiculous."

"What's more ridiculous: believing in the impossible or refusing to believe in what's right in front of you?"

Arthur turned away from her and paced the room in jerky steps. Now that she pointed it out, it was impossible to unsee it. It was impossible not to comb through his memories of Coyote and see them in that light, see the twinkling and the teasing as the restrained overtures of something possibly romantic. Arthur felt almost sick to his gut; those pained looks on his face weren't acting, then, but genuine hurts he had inflicted so carelessly. He was supposed to protect others, supposed to keep the dark things away from the innocent. Coyote might not be innocent, but he wasn't one of the nastiest things in the dark.

"Hey..." Ariadne began, getting up and stopping him from pacing. "I didn't tell you to make you feel bad. I told you so that you'd understand why he's doing this and why I wanted to apologize, because I didn't mean to hurt him but I did. He's not trying to trip you up. You don't have to be so on edge around him all the time. I'm not saying you should automatically trust everything he says like the gospel, but you don't have to doubt him so hard. It's going to give you an ulcer."

He gave her a wry smile. "I'll probably still get one."

"Bad roadhouse food will do that to you."

Arthur laughed as she hoped he would, and enveloped her in his arms. "I love you so much, Ariadne," he whispered against the crown of her head. He dropped a kiss onto her forehead. "I don't know what I'd do if I ever lost you."

"Well, I'm never leaving you, so you're not going to find out."

Neither mentioned the rather high mortality rate for hunters. They were both only too aware of that statistic.

***  
***


	6. Getting Out Alive

Arthur lay tangled up with Ariadne on the bed, feeling a measure of peace. It was early in the morning, and they were the only ones awake as far as they could tell. "Hey," he murmured at her, smiling gently. "Sleep well?"

Ariadne smiled at him. "Yeah." She carded her fingers through his hair tenderly. They didn't often get a chance to simply snuggle up close and enjoy each others' presence, so it was a welcome treat whenever they could.

"We're going to have to track down Death. I don't think that will be an easy one."

"We'll get through it. There's enough of us working together to get it all done." She gave him a soft smile. "When we help avert the end of the world, maybe then we can think of what _we_ want for a change."

"Like a vacation?"

Ariadne laughed. "Yeah. And a day job and a house and kids."

"You don't skimp on the dreams, do you?" he teased.

"If I'm going to build something, I'm going to do it right. It's all about creating the right amount of details and then filling in the rest of it as we go along."

His stomach rumbled then, and they both laughed. "Dreams never take food into consideration," Arthur joked. He kissed her again, soft and languid, finally breaking it. "If I kiss you the way I want to, we're never getting downstairs."

"Too bad." Ariadne pulled him down for a kiss. "More incentive to live through this. We need a place of our own."

"God, yes. First chance we get."

They headed into the kitchen after getting dressed. Sam and Bobby were already in the next room looking for signs that might lead them to Death. Dean was out back with Castiel. Gabriel and Eames were nowhere to be seen.

The trickster in question simply appeared as breakfast dishes were being washed. Arthur was giving her a surreptitious caress on her rear when Eames entered the room. He stopped short abruptly when he saw Arthur touching Ariadne. "Oh. Bad timing on my part. I'll just..."

"No, wait," Arthur said slowly, turning to face him. "We need to talk to you."

Eames rolled his eyes and didn't move. "You haven't found Death yet. I'm sure I would have heard screeching of some sort if you had."

Without warning, Arthur pulled him closer by the front of his shirt and kissed him full on the mouth. Eames let out a startled sound, his own hand catching hold of Arthur's shirt in his hands as he responded enthusiastically. After a moment, he seemed to collect himself and pull away. He regarded Arthur almost warily, which was a change that made Arthur almost dizzy. "What was that for?" Eames asked in flat tones.

"I wanted to see if it was true," Arthur replied, voice soft. His gaze on Eames was assessing, trying to refit all of his old memories with this new information. He was normally very good at puzzles, but his mind was refusing to see the bigger picture.

"Well, then. Now what?"

Arthur could hear the hurt buried beneath the arrogance in his voice and suddenly felt ashamed of himself. "I'm sorry," he said after a moment, startling Eames. "I'm sorry I was such a dick to you. I didn't know."

"I see," he replied coolly, eyes flicking from Arthur to Ariadne. Both watched him intently, waiting for the smooth, bored mask to slip. "Now what?" he repeated.

"Start over?"

"It's far too late for that," Eames said quietly, turning away from him. "There's too much work to do, Arthur."

Feeling like a complete asshole, Arthur sighed. "I'm _sorry,"_ he repeated. "I thought that was how you were getting your kicks. It never occurred to me that you might mean it."

"Well." Eames didn't turn around, and made a big show of checking a glass for water spots. "As I've said, there's work to be done. I've done my duty and beyond, but there's still much left to do, even after you find Death's ring. Lucifer won't simply take a stroll into the Cage if you can't kill him, after all."

"Yusuf's bullets might slow him down."

Eames put the glass down and turned. "I can give you a sword," he said slowly. "An Angel sword, one that no one would miss."

Arthur simply stared at him. "How can you get one of those? Castiel made it sound impossible."

"Castiel is no longer privy to the Host of Heaven, so he's lost some of his abilities." Eames' expression was flat, giving away nothing. "It happens when someone is cast out, rather than sauntering vaguely downward."

Ariadne couldn't help but snicker at that. "What?" she asked, when both men turned to look at her. "I liked that book. Though it was the description of how Crowley fell and became a demon."

"It's not entirely accurate," Eames told her with a shrug. "There is a Crowley, and he's rather close lipped about whether he was inspiration for the novel or not. But there are differences in how angels leave the Host, and that's what determines if they lose their powers or not." Eames picked up another glass to inspect Arthur's drying skill. "I have access to two swords, actually. I can give you one of them," he said, putting the glass down. "The other I will keep as a backup, rather like Ariadne here being our backup plan with spells."

"Who should wield it, then?" Arthur asked, looking at Eames in concern.

"The backup sword?" Eames asked, eyebrow arched.

"No, the actual sword."

"That would be a matter of discussion, I'd imagine," he replied, shrugging as he leaned against the counter. "The Winchester brothers may want to, though Lucifer has interest in Sam and Michael has interest in Dean. It would be hard to hide a sword in that case."

"So it should be me," Arthur guessed, frowning.

"That was my thought on the matter."

"Do we need to know whose swords they are?" Ariadne asked with a frown.

Eames had an almost shuttered look on his face at the question. "Why would you need to know that information?"

"What if they're looking for their swords and catch us with them?" Ariadne asked. "I can't imagine the angels would be too happy about that, and I wouldn't pit my Enochian against an actual angel."

Now there was something almost like a smile on his face. "Don't sell yourself short, darling. It's a matter of intent and strength of will to reshape existence. Most humans don't have it, but you're an incorruptible one. I'd wager you will be much more effective than you think."

"That still leaves us with two angry angels..." Arthur began.

"They willingly left the Host and no longer need the swords, but you do," Eames said abruptly. "I told you. You are both under my protection."

A pained silence descended between the three of them; it went unsaid why Eames would be so invested in their safety.

"Where are they now?" Arthur asked. "Are they in a safe place, then? I'm sure word is getting out among the demons that three of the four Horsemen no longer have their rings. That would make them even more determined to stop us."

"There are protections on this house. Bobby is very skilled in his arcane knowledge," Eames replied with a shrug. "You're all safe here."

"Yeah, but we all have to leave sometime," Ariadne pointed out.

Dean banged back into the house at that point, cutting of Eames' reply. His hair was mussed and he seemed rattled a little. Castiel followed closely, appearing anxious. He stopped short at the sight of the three in the kitchen. "What?"

"You're looking upset," Ariadne observed.

"You think?" Dean replied, rolling his eyes. "I need a beer."

"It's ten o'clock in the morning!"

"So? It's five pm somewhere in the world," he said as he opened the fridge. "Might as well tell them," he told Castiel as he grabbed a longneck. He still looked unhappy as he twisted off the cap and took a deep swig.

"Michael was here," Castiel said quietly. "He couldn't go beyond the yard because of the sigils in place, but he was demanding compliance with his wishes." The angel looked over at Dean. "He is still refusing, but Michael is persistent and wants a vessel."

"So why is Dean so upset?" Ariadne asked, knowing she was missing something crucial. "You tell him over your dead body, and he walks. He can only take you on as his vessel if you agree to it, right?"

"Over my dead body? Huh." Dean snorted and shook his head. "Yeah. That's exactly the problem, Ariadne," he said.

"What are you talking about?"

"Angels cannot assume unwilling vessels," Castiel said when Dean took another swig of beer. "But they can compel someone to agree by various means. Or bring back the dead."

"Meaning?" Arthur asked, frowning.

"Meaning either I agree or he _makes_ me agree. Or he takes on the half brother I burned after he died." Dean's voice was bitter. "One Winchester's as good as another, he said."

Eames looked between the stunned or bitter faces present in the kitchen. "We also have one more Horseman's ring to collect," he reminded the assemblage. "So there's going to be some planning before we even think about crossing Michael." He shrugged at Dean's glance at him. "What? You're not going to play along with his game and we'd rather let the dead rest in peace, yes? So it'll take some finessing on our part."

"You were not the one gifted with illusion," Castiel told Eames, a measure of concern etched into his otherwise stoic features.

The play of emotion on Eames' face was too rapid to easily identify. "That was Iaoel, yes. But I'm sure as hell better at it than you are," he said with a snarl in his voice.

"Camael..." Castiel began.

"Guards against demons and lost souls," Eames snapped, clearly angry with Castiel now. "Both of which we are up against right now. _Do not question me again!"_

Silence settled in the kitchen uncomfortably. Castiel finally nodded and then opened his mouth to speak just as Sam ducked his head in. "Hey. Um... We think we might have a location on where Lucifer is keeping Death."

Gabriel suddenly winked into existence near Sam, grinning. "And now it's a party."

Bobby rolled his wheelchair closer to the kitchen. "Get out of my way, boy," he said to Sam, who moved aside. "Too many goddamn people in my house," he grumbled, rolling up to the kitchen table. "Look," he said, once he was sure that he had everyone's attention. "Chicago is about to be wiped off the map because of a really nasty storm. This sets off a daisy chain of natural disasters centered around the city. Three million people are gonna die."

"We're not going to be able to kill Death," Arthur told him. "He's... Death. He's the one thing that can reap everything else, right?"

"There's his scythe, I suppose," Gabriel commented with a shrug. "Though you don't really need to kill him. You just need his ring in order to unlock and relock the Cage."

"Here's a thought," Ariadne said suddenly. "Has anyone ever just _asked_ them for their rings?" All eyes swiveled toward her. "I mean, they're not monsters exactly. They can think and reason. Plus, with Death, he's been summoned by Lucifer. I don't think that would be a situation he'd enjoy, right? He'd want to collect souls on his own time, not because Lucifer said so."

"Well, that's just dumb," Dean sputtered, putting down the beer. "It's like Arthur said. He's _Death._ The granddaddy of all reapers. An entire town was slaughtered to raise him up."

"He didn't ask for that to happen, did he?" Ariadne asked.

"It's not that simple," Sam told her, shaking his head. "They're the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. It's what they do."

"Yes, but look at it this way. You barge in and take something that doesn't belong to you by _cutting off their hands._ This isn't some kind of vengeful ghost that needs to be put to rest or a vampire or dire wolf that's just acting on its nature."

"These things were definitely acting on their nature," Dean muttered.

"Okay, okay," Ariadne said, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender. "It was just a thought."

"Less of those kinds of thoughts, sweetheart, and more of the kind that will let us survive," Dean remarked, voice heavy with sarcasm. Arthur shot him an irritated look, but Dean didn't pay attention to it.

"Then why don't you just bind Death yourself?" she replied, irritated. "Then order him to kill Lucifer or open the damn Cage for you."

"Can we even do that?" Arthur asked.

Gabriel laughed in the stunned silence. "There's a thought, but you'd have to break the prior bindings. Killing my brother or locking him away in the cage will do that." The Archangel sobered. "It won't be easy."

"I have two angel swords that we can use," Eames told the assemblage. "One can be wielded, one saved as a backup. Lucifer would never let the Winchesters close enough to use a sword, but they can be the distraction that we need to get it done."

"Or I could do it," Gabriel said, looking at Eames evenly. "He's my brother, I should be the one to do it."

"Could you really?" he returned, crossing his arms over his chest. "Could you take the sword and gut him, stem to stern like a hot knife through butter? Could you stand there and watch his heartsblood spill across the floor and not lift a finger to help him?" His eyes bored into Gabriel's, jaw tight. "You did the job for mortals once upon a time, but could you take the life of the Morningstar without hesitating?"

"If I have to."

"I don't think you can. I know you want to," he said, cutting Gabriel off. "But I don't think you can. I don't think you'll be able to get one over on him."

"That's absurd."

"You've been off the angel game for far too long."

Gabriel was about to say something when Arthur cleared his throat and took their attention away from their argument. "Sam and Dean distract Lucifer and Michael. I'll wield the sword. I won't hesitate, and I want the bastard dead." He was dead serious as he looked at Eames and Gabriel. "I know how to use a sword, and I won't miss."

The archangel may have wanted to scoff at him, but didn't. "Are you sure?"

"I _can't_ fail. I have too much to lose if I fail," Arthur told him. "We all do." He looked around the room, grim faced. "There's no other way to survive this than to win. He dies or he kills us all, end of story."

Eames nodded. "Then let's hash out the details."

***

Dean walked into the pizzeria where Death was waiting, the other occupants all dead. He didn't manage to be as stealthy as he wanted to be, but Death didn't seem perturbed in the slightest. "I've been waiting for you, Dean," Death said. "Join me?"

Surprised, Dean sat down across from Death and traced the pattern of the checkered tablecloth. It wasn't exactly how he expected the meeting to go. He was even more surprised by the existential discussion that followed, as well as hearing that someday God Himself would be reaped. "This is way above my pay grade," Dean commented, nonplused.

Death nodded. "Just a bit." He took a bite of pizza, ignoring the way Dean was looking at him.

Dean paused, aware that he wasn't dropping dead the way the other patrons in the pizzeria had not that long ago. The others were outside, and he couldn't let them walk into this place only to keel over. If he didn't give them some sort of signal first, they would likely storm the place. "So, then why am I still breathing, sitting here with you? Uh...What do you want?" 

"Lucifer has me bound to him. Some unseemly little spell," Death told him, looking extremely displeased by the concept. "He has me where he wants, when he wants. That's why I couldn't go to you." Death leaned forward slightly, skeletal looking features suddenly more prominent. "He made me his weapon. Hurricanes, floods, raising the dead. I'm more powerful than you can process, and I'm enslaved to a bratty child with a temper tantrum."

"And you think...I can unbind you?"

"There's your ridiculous bravado again. Of course you can't. But you can help me take the bullets out of Lucifer's gun. I understand you want this," Death said, holding up his ring.

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

"I'm inclined to give it to you." He smiled thinly at Dean's surprise, then looked toward the door. "Tell your companions to come in. You may have this," Death dropped his ring into Dean's open palm. "And of course you'll need the instruction manual before they swarm in here to goggle at achieving this step."

Dean closed his fist around the ring, nodding. "We need to kill Lucifer. Or lock him up."

"You have to do whatever it takes to put Lucifer in his cell." Death stared at Dean until he felt all squirmy and uncomfortable. "Promise me."

It was actually easier than he thought it would be to promise Death that he would do everything, including letting Sam acquiesce to Lucifer's demands. In return, Death instructed him on the function of the rings as a key.

Dean carried all four rings of the Four Horsemen and he knew how to operate the Cage. He didn't go into detail when the others filed into the pizzeria to see if he all right. Death smiled a death mask grin at them, which made them stop short. "A promise on my part in exchange for your help. Barring a direct order by that child, I will not reap any of the souls present here unless you specifically ask me to." He took a slow bite of pizza, savoring the taste of it. "That should give you enough confidence to get the job done."

"Thank you," Ariadne said, trying to be polite. "Maybe we should let you enjoy your pizza in peace now?"

Death laughed, a low and rasping sound rather like the whisper of leaves fluttering across a gravestone. "You all have everything you need now. Make sure you finish the job."

***

Lucifer paced the length of the hotel room, eyes on the clock. The second hand swept completely around and was making another circuit when there was a knock at the door. It opened when he waved his hand, revealing Sam Winchester. He stopped pacing, lips stretched into a grin. "There you are. Finally ready for me?"

He stepped into the room, leaving the door wide open. The room reeked of sweat, stale cigarettes and blood. Sam's eyes swept over the room with its tacky wallpaper, stained sheets and body poorly hidden between the two twin beds. "So how many demons do you have to kill a day, now?" he asked, seeing the splayed feet on the floor.

His cheeks were sunken and sallow, eyes ringed with deep black circles. Lucifer was starting to resemble more of a walking corpse than a demon that had once been the Morningstar. When his lips stretched back into a smile, it only served to highlight the fact that the host was dying. "Does it really matter, Sam? I knew you'd come around sooner or later."

"You think that only because you ignore what everyone else has been telling you all along."

"You're here, and you know what I'd do if you refused me." Lucifer smiled his death's head smile at Sam again. "It's easier to just give in."

"But he's not alone," Gabriel said, sauntering into the hotel room. He looked around, taking in how shabby everything. "Wow. Not up to your usual standards."

Lucifer curled up his lips at Gabriel. "Finally taking a stand? Figured you would side with Father's favorite," he said, bitterness lacing his tone.

"Grow up!" Gabriel snapped. _"You_ were the favorite. Why do you think you're still alive and not dead?" He charged forward, but Lucifer spun around behind him and caught the real Gabriel by the throat and picked him up off of the ground.

"Did you really think you could get one over on me, little brother?" he snarled. "I taught you that trick." Lucifer turned to look at a surprised Sam with a satisfied look. "Now you'll see what happens if you cross me."

"Could be," Sam murmured, shrugging. "Except there's a flaw in your plan," he said as Dean walked into the hotel room. "You didn't catch who you thought you did."

The Gabriel in Lucifer's hand smiled and thrust an angel sword right into his chest. As he did so, the illusion spell slipped from him and he became Arthur Campbell again. "Gotcha."

Dean began the ritual that would open the Cage. The initial Gabriel that had shown up in the hotel room was actually Ariadne, and she placed a silencing spell on Lucifer. He roared in fury, throwing Arthur through the wall. Ariadne shrieked and darted after him. Lucifer stalked toward Sam, who held out a hand and tried to push him back the way that he could with demons. He'd let all of the demon blood leave his system, however, so he wasn't strong enough. Ariadne started chanting a spell to help Sam contain Lucifer, which drew his attention. He yanked the angel sword out of his chest and turned away from Sam's ineffectual attempts to stop him. "You dare to use the old tongue against me?" he asked, lips drawn back from his teeth in a snarl.

Ariadne crouched on the ground, her body between Arthur and Lucifer's approach. She continued chanting, and the spell started to weave around Lucifer. It felt as if the spell was boiling her blood, and all she could hear was the roar in her ears as the magic started building up around her. Her eyes were locked on Lucifer, tracking his approach and willing him to _stop_ so that the magic could wind even more tightly around him. He raised the angel sword up over his head, moving slower than before but still far too fast for her liking. A downward stroke would take her head off of her shoulders, but if she moved she knew she would lose her concentration.

Eames materialized and thrust the second angel sword into Lucifer's back. The blade went up through his ribcage, puncturing the host's lungs. He gurgled in surprise, which allowed Sam to rush forward and take the angel sword from his hands. "I said I would protect them," Eames told Lucifer in Enochian. "They are _mine,_ Morningstar."

Lucifer started to say something that sounded similar to the phrase that would summon Death, so Eames clamped a hand down over his mouth. Even when Lucifer started biting his hand in desperation, he held on tighter and merely grimaced in pain. Sam shoved the angel sword in his hand into Lucifer's chest again, narrowly missing Eames' side.

Dean completed the ritual that opened the Cage, and Eames fell back, releasing Lucifer. He shouted the true name of Death as Sam kicked him into the Cage. He was sure to retain his angel sword, and Eames had the presence of mind to step forward and reclaim the sword he had been holding. Dean rushed forward to seal the Cage shut and pull Sam away from its edge.

There was a howling sound, and Eames looked toward Ariadne and Arthur in alarm. He made a slashing gesture in their general direction, and a sideways tear in reality opened beside them. She just managed to stand up when Eames _pushed_ with his power, sending her flying backward into Arthur. They both fell backwards into the rip, and it sealed shut just as Death arrived in the hotel room.

The Cage was already shut and Dean was in the process of sealing it. Gabriel materialized between him and Death, a determined look on his face. "Hello, my old friend," he said in a quiet and respectful tone.

Death swept his eyes around the room. "Well, then. The child's bonds are weaker." He nodded toward Dean. "Finish it, Dean."

It was like the final twist of a key, and then it was done.

"Feels rather anticlimactic, doesn't it?" Gabriel asked the brothers, who were looking at each other with almost confused expressions. "Well, you got what you wanted. Armageddon averted, the world spins on, same as always. Congratulations."

Dean frowned as Death picked up the rings. The Horseman made no move to do anything with them. "So now what?"

Death actually smiled. "So now you live."

Sam glanced at Eames and handed over the sword he was holding. "Where did you send them?"

"Somewhere safe," he replied evasively. He smiled at the brothers, though they could tell it was a fake one. "Which is where you should go, too. There are still plenty of creatures out there in the darkness, and Michael won't be pleased that we interrupted his destiny."

Death was exiting the hotel room, but paused at the words. He turned back to look at Eames with a pointed expression. "By the way, Camael, your sister isn't dead. Iaoel is only sleeping. I thought you would like confirmation, since you did ask the last time she went missing this way."

Eames had a shuttered expression on his face, but he nodded. "Thank you. I did worry about her, especially when Phillipa couldn't see her in dreams."

"The child didn't understand what she saw," Death replied. He pulled a hat out of thin air and placed it on his head. He stepped outside of the door to the hotel room, then vanished.

"So wait up," Dean said after a moment. "You're an angel, too?"

"The swords are yours and your sister's then," Sam said when Eames didn't reply.

Gabriel held a hand out toward Eames. "Go take care of your mortals, Eames. I'll clean up here."

Eames nodded and shook his hand. "Perhaps the next reunion will be less exciting, yeah?"

Laughing, Gabriel turned toward the Winchester brothers. "Time for everyone to go." Eames vanished, and Gabriel snapped his fingers. The brothers, the Impala and Castiel were back at Bobby's house. He stepped back and let them all reunite and confirm that they were all alive, that Lucifer was locked away in the Cage and it was all over.

Smiling to himself, Gabriel vanished as well.

***

Phillipa had a pleased smile on her face as she opened the back door to a bewildered Ariadne and Arthur Campbell. "Come in!" she chirped.

Dom Cobb was making breakfast and scowled at them. "What are you doing here?" he growled.

"Um... I'm assuming it was to get us out of the way," Ariadne said, a trifle uncertainly. "We were somewhere else for a while, then here."

"Is that why you smell like magic?" James piped up around a mouthful of English muffin. He grinned and ignored Cobb's admonishments, kicking his feet merrily under the table.

"What do you mean by that?" Arthur asked, somewhat warily.

"You both smell like it, but especially her," James replied, pointing at Ariadne.

"Maybe because they've both been absorbing it for so long," Phillipa told him matter of factly as Cobb sputtered. She sat down in her own chair with a dreamy smile on her face. "I wonder what the little one will do."

Ariadne stared at her. "That's not very nice, Phillipa," she managed to say. Beside her, Arthur bristled on her behalf.

Before Cobb could admonish her, Phillipa giggled. "I wasn't talking about _you,_ Ariadne. I was talking about your baby."

The adults went still. "What?" Arthur asked faintly.

"Little ones absorbing magic like that come out special," Phillipa continued as if she hadn't just rattled the adults' equilibrium.

"Like me?" James asked, still kicking his feet playfully. He took a bite of muffin as Phillipa nodded. "Can I play with it when it's born? There aren't too many kids around to play with."

"I need to sit down," Arthur murmured. Ariadne simply stared at Phillipa as he did, not sure what she should do or say. She believed Phillipa; this was a nephilim, after all. Arthur looked at Ariadne with a vulnerable expression, and she knew that he wasn't sure whether or not to be happy. He clutched at her hand like a lifeline, and she managed a smile for his benefit. "Do you think we'll be okay?" he asked.

"Yes," she said after a moment, voice firm. "Lucifer's locked away, Armageddon is averted. It's going to be business as usual, then."

Cobb placed a plate with English muffins in front of them. There was the faint whiff of alcohol around him, but nothing overpowering. "You'll need a place to stay, I guess," he said grudgingly.

"That would help. At least for a little while, until we figure out where the hell our stuff is," Arthur told him with a nod. On this count he knew what he had to do. "We can clear out once we're settled a bit better."

"Daddy, no," Phillipa pleaded. "Let them stay..."

"How can I play with the baby if they leave?" James complained.

Cobb rubbed his jaw tiredly. "Listen, before I said I'd only help you stay the night..." A knock on the back door set him grumbling. "Since when was my house a railway station?"

Eames stood at the back door, hands stuffed in his pockets. He seemed tired and more drawn this time, and he waited until Cobb acknowledged him. "Can I come in?"

"What the hell. Why not? Everyone else has."

Eames accepted the squeals of joy and hugs from Phillipa and James, then looked over at Arthur and Ariadne. "It's definitely done now," he said, an arm around each child. "The Cage is locked and Lucifer is gone. I imagine that the other Gates will shut now."

"You imagine," Arthur said slowly. He looked up at Ariadne and their still-linked hands. "So it really is back to how things usually are. There are still things out there to hunt. Still monsters in the dark and all the creatures that won't leave humanity alone."

"You get to do what you choose to," Eames told him.

Arthur's brow furrowed as he thought about everything that had happened over the past few weeks, about the new information Phillipa had just told him. He pulled Ariadne's hand against his lips and kissed it. "Feel like raising a fourth generation hunter?" he asked her.

She laughed and leaned down to kiss his forehead. "Sure. It's bound to be an adventure, right?"

Eames gave them both a wide grin. "That's the spirit. Do I get to be the fairy godfather?"

"No," Arthur said, shaking his head emphatically. Eames' grin slipped slightly. "Can't have the kid trying to kill you, right? Plain old godfather will have to do."

He nodded and smiled at them. There would be time enough later for explanations and blessings and casting protective circles. For now, it was nice enough to realize that there was a new start for the lot of them.

And maybe this time they would all get it right.

The End


End file.
